


Hearts Like Ours

by FindingFrancis, wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Bucky Barnes & Claire Temple Friendship, Bucky Barnes-centric, Captain America Big Bang 2018 | cabigbang, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Embedded Images, Enthusiastic Consent, Family Fluff, Firestarter Steve Rogers, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Holidays, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Minor T'Challa/Sam Wilson, Nurse Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex, Psychic Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Soulmates, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Titty Fucking, past suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 100,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingFrancis/pseuds/FindingFrancis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: “You’re kind of a weird one, aren’t you?”Bucky gasps, all mock-offense. “We’re rolling with the insults today, aren’t we?”Steve flushes again, shoulders tight. “Sorry. Just… Sorry.”Bucky’s expression softens, and he goes with his gut as he reaches a hand out, fingers grazing the back of Steve’s hand on the table. Steve’s skin is warm, just as Bucky thought it would be. “It’s okay. It’s actually kind of nice knowing you can match my level of asshole.”*Today, of all days, is the day Bucky is going to meet the love of his life. Imagine his surprise when it turns out to be Captain America.Or: The Adventures of Bucky Barnes, the Shitty Psychic.





	1. October

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to our Captain America Big Bang 2018 collaboration! Thank you so much to the mods for making this a wonderful experience to participate in <3
> 
>  **waering_tearing** : a million thanks to my wonderful and talented artist, [BeesAndBroomsticks](https://beesandbroomsticks.tumblr.com/)! you have been a joy to work with and the puppies still make my heart skip a beat :'D  
> this fic originated from a very old prompt by [eidheann](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eidheann): _a sexy touch in an unsexy place_. so thank you for inspiring me into writing this monster  <3  
> extra thanks goes to [portraitofemmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitofemmy/pseuds/portraitofemmy) for yelling about plot points with me and always cheering me on :*  
> and thank you soooo much to my betas [siriusgrey](https://siriusgrey.tumblr.com/) and [belovedmuerto](https://belovedmuerto.tumblr.com/) for picking up my dropped words, correcting my typos, and making sure i stayed along the path. you're both amazing <3
> 
>  **BeesAndBroomsticks** : wearing_tearing, Thank you for your beautiful story and for being such a great cheerleader throughout the CapBB process. You made this so easy and fun and I hope we get to work together in the future! Any day I get to draw puppies is a great day. XOXO, Bees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** for this chapter: brief talk of Steve's struggle with PTSD and one passing and very minor mention of off-screen sexual harassment.

“An espresso with a shot of charisma for Bucky!”

Bucky walks to the counter, grabbing his cup and uttering a small ‘thank you’ to the barista. The pixie winks at him, already fluttering away to take care of the next order, the coffee shop surprisingly busy for mid-morning on a Tuesday. Bucky squeezes past a couple of angels waiting in line, sidestepping the goblins as they rush to get an empty table, and accidentally bumps into a vampire on his way out.

Once outside, Bucky takes a deep breath, shoulders finally losing some of the tension he’s been carrying around since he woke up this morning. The feeling only gets better once he takes a sip of his coffee, the tingly rush of charisma shooting through him, making him shudder.

Bucky thanks the heavens for fairy run coffee shops and their special drinks. He doesn’t know how he’d make it through life without his daily dose of caffeine with a shot of good fortune or patience or concentration.

Especially today.

Because today, of all days, and for reasons Bucky can’t fathom, is the day he is going to meet the love of his life.

 

**

 

The thing about Bucky is that he is cursed.

In fact, half of his family is.

Long long long ago, someplace far away from the city of New York, one of Bucky’s ancestors — a Barnes, son of Barnes, and as human as can be — made the mistake of saving someone’s life.

Except that someone wasn’t just some _one_ , but a warlock princeling.

As a way to settle the life debt, because warlocks hate to owe anything to anybody ever, especially to a mere human, they decide to bestow onto Barnes’s line a _gift_.

And the gift they chose was that of sight.

So from that day forward, passed down from Barnes to Barnes to Barnes, they have all been able to see the future. Never all of it, though, only tiny little glimpses from time to time, and not about anyone or anything not related to their own family. Those glimpses are always enough to make them aware that something important will happen, but not _how_ or _why_ or _where_.

The only thing they know is _who_ and _what_ and _when_.

 

**

 

That morning, Bucky wakes up from dreams of fire and gold and smoke.

He wakes up to the feelings of love and longing deep in his soul, to the taste of salt on his lips, and to the shadowed silhouette of a man both as large as the world and as small as Bucky’s own heart seared in his mind.

That morning, Bucky knows that little glimpse of the future, and he knows his life is about to change forever.

So it’s a little bit of a comfort when the door to his room bursts open — even though he lives alone —, a flash of brown and white runs past, and his little sister throws herself on top of him.

“You’re getting married!” Becca yells, wrapping her skinny little arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight.

Bucky groans, and he also knows that she’s had a glimpse of what is going to happen to him. Never mind that Becca is wrong. Just because the love of his life is out there waiting for him, it does not mean Bucky will marry him. Even though that is exactly what happened to his parents.

Parents, who are standing just outside the door to his room, both sporting wide smiles. His father is dangling the key to Bucky’s apartment in one hand, and his mother has tears in her eyes.

Like Bucky said, it is only a _little bit_ of a comfort.

 

**

 

Bucky is on edge all day, eyes darting to every person who stands a little bit too close, waiting to feel that little rush of _aha!_ the moment his prediction comes true. It doesn’t happen, and the longer his shift at the hospital goes, the worse Bucky gets. He knows he only gets away with it because the shot of charisma is still doing its job, making him charming and likeable to everyone he comes into contact with.

Or at least _almost_ everyone.

“Did you accidentally get a shot of paranoia with your coffee?” Claire asks, raising an eyebrow at him and grabbing a new pile of patient charts from the nurses’ station.

Claire’s been a nurse at the hospital since before Bucky was hired, her no-nonsense attitude and ability to keep a flat expression and steady hands through the worst of times making her one of Bucky’s favorite colleagues. She doesn’t ask a lot of questions Bucky doesn’t want to answer, and she always listens when Bucky has something to say.

Bucky thinks that has something to do with the red devil who likes to hang around the hospital’s roof from time to time, but he pays Claire’s silence with some of his own and does not ask any questions.

“No.” Bucky glares, sighing when Claire just keeps looking at him. “I’m waiting for something.”

Claire blinks, lips pressed in a tight line. “Should we be worried?”

Bucky shakes his head, offering her a kind smile. “No. It’s just me this time.”

The last time Bucky told Claire he was waiting for something to happen, they ended up with a full ER after a fight broke out between rival werewolf packs in a pub near the hospital. It was bloody and gruesome, and a lot of hard work from the staff to keep them from tearing each other to pieces while they healed.

“Good luck then,” Claire tells him, clapping on the shoulder. “It seems like you’ll need it.”

Bucky sighs again, shoulders slumping.

It seems that he will.

Especially when his shift ends, the screen of his phone telling him it’s twenty minutes to midnight. Figures he’ll meet the love of his life after working for twelve hours, his hair tied up in a messy bun at the top of his head, his skin smelling of disinfectant and latex.

Bucky is so distracted thinking about the injustice of it all as he makes his way home that he misses the man walking the towards him, the crack on the sidewalk, and the little family of brownies crossing his path. At least until one of the brownies lets out an ear piercing scream, stopping Bucky short of stomping one of their family members to death.

Bucky startles, sidestepping the brownies only to have his foot catch on the crack of the sidewalk.

The world tilts on its axis as Bucky falls forward, eyes closing tightly and muscles tensing as he prepares himself for the impact. He braces for the pain to come, for the sound of crushing bones as his nose breaks, for the hot thick feeling of blood sliding down his face.

Except it is not pain and the harsh ground that greet him.

Instead, Bucky falls face first into something hard but surprisingly soft, that smells not of urine and dirt and trash, but of leather and mint and smoke. This something also wraps itself around Bucky’s waist, grip tight and sure, keeping him in place.

This something is _warm_ and _alive_.

This something is a _person_ that Bucky is leaning on, with his nose tucked against their collarbone and his hands curled into the fabric of their shirt.

Bucky makes a garbled sound as he opens his eyes and tries to step away from whoever it is that caught him, only to lose his footing again and tilt sideways. The arms around his waist tighten their hold, hauling Bucky up so he can get his feet under him, and in the process pull him closer.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh,” is all Bucky can say, because he is _not_ okay. He can feel his cheeks burn in embarrassment, and his hands are still clinging to this person despite Bucky wanting to get away.

“Hey, do you need to sit down?”

“No,” Bucky says, because what he needs is for this day to be over. “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fin—” Bucky starts, glancing to the man, and then promptly shuts himself up.

Because the person holding on to him? That’s Steve Rogers.

Captain America himself.

A _firestarter_.

And when their gazes meet, Bucky feels that little rush of _aha!_ as his prediction comes true.

  


 

**

 

Everyone knows about Captain America, the Howling Commandos, and Peggy Carter.

If there is one thing the world loves, then that thing is stories.

Steve Rogers was human until he was not, fire burning hot and bright from the middle of his heart to the tips of his fingers. It was a result of the supersoldier serum, as history tells, which changed him into one of the first firestarters the world had seen in centuries.

And when it comes to stories? Well, theirs is the best of them all.

A merry band of shifters who caused havoc and helped win wars, the mermaid who traded her tail for legs and went on to change the world, and the little sickly human who burned brighter than the sun.

Together, they made history.

Together, they helped shape the world as it is now.

 

**

 

Pressed against him at night in the middle of an empty New York City street, Bucky can attest to the heat emanating from Steve’s body. It seeps into his clothes, touching his skin, making him want to snuggle up against the chiseled chest in front of him and never move again.

Bucky briefly wonders if that is also one of Steve’s powers: make people feel so warm and cozy that they decide not to attack.

“Sir?” Steve prompts, brows furrowed as he takes a step back, hands still resting on Bucky’s sides, as if he’s afraid Bucky will fall again. “Is there anyone I can call?”

Bucky shakes his head, both to answer and to clear his thoughts, forcing himself to pry his fingers away from Steve’s leather jacket. “Sorry,” he says, licking his lips. “It’s just been a long day.”

_And you’re the love of my life_ , Bucky thinks to himself, still having a bit of a hard time believing this fact. It does explain the dreams of fire and smoke, though, and the shadow of someone both small and larger than life.

“I guess almost cracking your head didn’t help,” Steve murmurs, surprising a laugh out of Bucky.

“No shit,” Bucky says, happy when that gets a small smile out of Steve. “Thank you for the save, by the way. Wouldn’t want to go back to the hospital to get a broken nose fixed.”

“It was no trouble.” Steve drops his hands from Bucky’s sides, burying them in his pockets instead. “You’re a doctor?”

“Nurse Barnes, at your service,” Bucky says, extending a hand, and then immediately wants to slap himself for his dorkiness.

Although it does make Steve’s small smile widen a little, as he takes Bucky’s hand in his own for a firm shake. “Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Bucky,” Bucky blurts out, and then adds at Steve’s confused look, “It’s my name. I mean, the name I go by. My real name is actually James, but Becca couldn’t pronounce it when we were kids and—”

“Bucky,” Steve cuts him off, smile now a full grin. “And you wanted to stick with that for the rest of your life?”

Bucky gapes, embarrassment forgotten to give place to absolute joy at being faced with Captain America’s brand of assholery. So of course Bucky says the first thing that comes to mind, “Says the _Star Spangled Man with a Plan_.”

Steve grimaces, touch turning a little bit too hot against Bucky’s hand. Which he apparently is still holding.

Huh.

They must notice it at the same time, because Steve’s grimace turns to sheepishness and he lets go. Bucky watches in fascination as the tips of Steve’s ear turn pink, the air around him almost sizzling hot.

“In my defense, I’m not the one who came up with that,” Steve replies, fidgeting in place.

“Yeah, I don’t think you’d saddle yourself with such a dumb name,” Bucky tease, trying to lighten the mood, and is glad when that gets a low laugh from Steve.

“I guess we have that in common,” Steve offers, and then asks him in a more serious tone, hands finding their way back to his pockets. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers, “I promise.”

Considering his entire life has just changed, he thinks he’s doing pretty well.

“Good,” Steve says, and then tilts his head to the side. “Are you on your way home?”

“I was going to stop by to grab some food first,” Bucky lies, biting down on his bottom lip and only feeling a little bit guilty about it. “How about you let me get you something? As a thank you for not letting me fall flat on my face.”

Bucky might know Steve is the love of his life, but he doesn’t know how or when they will fall in love with each other. All he knows is that they were meant to meet today, and now that that is done, it is up to Bucky to move things along. He figures a tiny little lie won’t mess things up for him, and grabbing some food with Steve beats going back to his empty apartment and making some Pop Tarts.

But Bucky also doesn’t blindly trust his glimpse of the future. Just because Steve is the one for him, it doesn’t mean he is the one for Steve. As much as Bucky likes what he’s seen so far, he wants a real chance to get to know the man meant for him. He won’t fall headlong into this without protecting his heart.

And even more, he wants the opportunity to redeem himself. He didn’t miss the way Steve’s body reacted to the reference of him being Captain America, with his touch growing uncomfortably hot, probably reflecting his emotions on the subject. Bucky wants a chance to apologize, although he doesn’t think Steve will appreciate him bringing up the subject again. So, food it is.

Steve is frowning again, lips turned down. “You don’t have—”

“I want to,” Bucky interrupts him. “Please. My Ma will hit me over the head if she finds out I didn’t give proper thanks to someone who saved me from trouble.”

“How will she know?” Steve gives him a look, eyes narrowed.

“Ma’s a witch,” Bucky says. “She knows things.”

Steve snorts, and then takes a step to the side, opening the path for Bucky. “You better lead the way, then.”

 

**

 

They end up at a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that serves one of the best tamales Bucky’s ever eaten. Bucky has no idea who owns and runs the place, only that it is open 24/7, but he likes the atmosphere and the way the air inside always smells like chili: spicy and delicious.

Bucky notices Steve’s curious glances as they pick a table near the back, with Bucky taking a seat with his back to the door, letting Steve have a clear view of the room. As soon as their butts are on their respective chairs, drinks appear in front of them, the glasses full to the brim.

“Oh,” Steve gasps with a little surprise, before letting out an embarrassed laugh. “I forget there are some places where the food just appears in front of you.”

“At least you didn’t jump like my little sister and spill coke all over your guacamole.”

Steve wrinkles his nose in disgust, something that looks entirely too cute for Bucky’s taste. “So, you have a sister?”

“Yeah, name’s Becca. She’s a little devil.”

“Oh, what kind?” Steve asks, and then looks appalled at himself. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That’s so rude of me to—”

Bucky waves a hand at him, torn between bursting out laughing and reaching out to give Steve a hug. “It’s fine. You’re okay,” he says, giving Steve a reassuring smile. “And she’s not a _literal_ devil, just, you know, a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Oh my god, still, I’m so sorry,” Steve says, entire face red, eyes big and a little devastated.

“Hey, I’m not offended,” Bucky promises. “And I won’t tell anyone about it. Your lack of manners is safe with me.”

Steve doesn’t look that convinced. “Are you sure? Because I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure. And I cross my heart,” Bucky tells him, making an X over his heart.

Bucky feels the pinprick of magic as he makes the vow, tying him to his word. Steve’s eyes widen, mouth parting as he stares at Bucky, looking equal parts grateful and horrified.

“You didn’t have to—” Steve starts, voice low and colored with surprised.

“I know.” Bucky shrugs. “But you seemed really worried about it. And this is something I could do, so.”

Steve considers him for a few seconds, as if not knowing what to make of him. Bucky doesn’t mind, because he also doesn’t know what to make of himself. To say he’s been a little out of it since meeting Steve would be an understatement, but Bucky figures that’s what happens when you meet the love of your life.

And, you know, they turn out to be someone like _Steve_.

“You’re kind of a weird one, aren’t you?”

Bucky gasps, all mock-offense. “We’re rolling with the insults today, aren’t we?”

Steve flushes again, shoulders tight. “Sorry. Just… Sorry.”

Bucky’s expression softens, and he goes with his gut as he reaches a hand out, fingers grazing the back of Steve’s hand on the table. Steve’s skin is warm, just as Bucky thought it would be. “It’s okay. It’s actually kind of nice knowing you can match my level of asshole.”

Steve blinks, relaxing a little. “There are levels?”

Bucky laughs, carefree. “Pal, you have no idea.”

“I think I do, a little bit,” Steve tells him, and then smirks. “You did almost kill a brownie today.”

It’s Bucky turn to groan, and he feels the blood rushing to his neck, turning his skin pink. “I’m usually really good at paying attention to where I’m going. Today’s just been a weird day.”

_Because I’ve been worried about meeting you_ , Bucky doesn’t add, but knows it to be true.

“Yeah, I get that,” Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair.

“Weirdness the reason for your midnight stroll?” Bucky asks, biting at his bottom lip.

“It was only ten when I left,” Steve answers, but doesn’t offer anything else.

“Well,” Bucky clears his throat, feeling a little awkward, “I’m glad, though. If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be in some serious pain right now. _And_ you wouldn’t know the amazingness that is—,” Bucky stops talking when in front of them two plates appears, “Fajitas, _nice_.”

Steve snorts, drawing Bucky’s attention to him. “I take it they’re good?”

“Everything here is good,” Bucky answers honestly, already preparing himself to eat. “But the fajitas and tamales are the best, in my humble opinion.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should,” Bucky says, batting his lashes, “because I’m always right.”

Steve bunches up a napkin and throws it at him, smiling when Bucky bats it away with a hand and it ends up plopping back on their table. Steve looks a lot more relaxed than he did before, embarrassment and tension gone. Bucky is pleased with himself, knowing he’s helped Steve feel a little more comfortable.

“So,” Bucky starts after they’ve demolished half their plates, the food tasty and delicious as always. Bucky almost wants to kick himself after the words are out of his mouth, though, because Steve tenses again, just slightly, his grip tightening around his fork.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, cautious, as if he’s waiting for Bucky to start badgering him with questions.

When Bucky takes a second to run that over in his head, he realizes that must happen a lot. People curious about Steve and his life, his work as Captain America, questioning him about what it was like to be alive back then, to go to war, to put himself in danger all the time.

Bucky remembers the first couple of months after Steve came out of the ice, after the Battle of New York, with the interviews and magazine spreads and conferences. Bucky didn’t pay attention to it all, busy with work and his own problems, but he recalls Steve’s stoic face, the tightness of his lips, the far away look in his eyes whenever someone asked him about what he’d been through, as if he hadn’t been living that mere months ago.

Most people don’t really treat Steve like a person, Bucky realizes with a sick feeling in his stomach. They treat him like a relic.

So Bucky does the only thing he can think of in that moment and blurts out, “What’s your favorite color?”

Steve blinks, startled, before he leans back in his chair, eyebrow arched. “My favorite color?”

Bucky shrugs, stuffing some food in his mouth so he doesn’t end up saying anything else as stupid as that.

“It’s red,” Steve says, with a little sad smile playing at his lips. “It was one of the first colors I saw after… It stuck with me.”

Bucky doesn’t need Steve to say ‘after the serum’. They all know his history, and Steve must be perfectly aware of that. That the people around him nowadays know more about his life than he’s probably comfortable with.

“Mine’s blue,” Bucky tells him, figuring he can at least offer a little bit of himself back. “My Ma used to make charms in the kitchen when I was little, and some of them let out blue sparks when they were done. Little me was very impressed.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, tension already seeping from his shoulders. “That sounds fun.”

“It was, for the most part,” Bucky admits. “Unless she decided to use her magic on us when we didn’t do our chores. It’s not cool having a trash bag stuck to your hand until you put it in the garbage bin.”

“My Ma would just look at me, all disappointed,” Steve says, the sad smile back. “She didn’t even have to say anything, and I’d already feel like the worst person on earth because I didn’t wash my plate.”

“I wonder where they get it from,” Bucky muses. “And if it’s just something that happens when you’re a parent. Because it’d be kind of useful for me at the hospital to just get people to do things without making a fuss so I can help them.”

“What made you want to be a nurse?”

“My dad was in a car accident when I was a kid,” Bucky tells him, shushing Steve’s apologies. “He’s okay. Stronger than ever. But he had to spend some time in the hospital, and my Ma would take me and Becca to visit sometimes. One of the nurses, Melissa, would always sneak in some jello for us when she came to check in on him, and she let us help read out the numbers on his monitor. I think she was just trying to make us not feel so scared, you know?”

“She sounds like a nice lady.”

“She is.” Bucky grins. “She retired last year, and I had the chance to work with her for some time. So I chose to be a nurse because I wanted to help people, and maybe give something back, some comfort to someone who needed it, you know? Like she did for us.”

“That’s wonderful, Bucky,” Steve says, sad smile now gentle and proud.

Bucky wants to squirm in his seat, warmth rushing through his body. “Thanks,” he says, and then adds, “Also, I look really good in scrubs.”

That gets a sharp laugh out of Steve, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t doubt that,” he says, smirking when that makes Bucky blush.

Bucky wonders if Steve’s flirting with him, but the moment passes when Steve starts eating again. The whole world knows Steve identifies as bisexual, after a disastrous interview where the reporter kept pushing his anti-LGBTQ+ agenda at Steve, to the point where Steve let the polite mask slip and tore him a new one, also coming out in the process. Bucky himself is bi, and he can’t begin to find the words to tell Steve how much Steve making a stand meant to him. As it is, Bucky keeps quiet, eating his fajitas, and hoping one day he gets to tell Steve about it.

 

**

 

The rest of the dinner goes by smoothly, once Steve knows none of Bucky’s questions are related to what he’s been through. They talk a little more about Bucky’s work, with Steve offering some information about his mother, who used to be a nurse. They move on to talking about their favorite foods once Steve’s plate fills up again, while Bucky’s remains empty.

“I guess they know you’re still hungry,” Bucky comments when Steve looks sheepishly at his plate.

“You don’t mind if I…?”

“I won’t keep a man away from his dinner, Steve,” Bucky says. “You go ahead and eat until you’re full.”

“That might take a while.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t have an early shift tomorrow.”

“Lucky for me,” Steve mutters, and then goes back to eating.

They leave the restaurant nearing two in the morning, their bellies full, and after Bucky insists on being the one to pay their bill.

“I invited you,” Bucky points out. “And I did say this was supposed to be a thank you for not letting me fall to my death.”

Steve frowns. “You wouldn’t have died. And I ate a lot.”

“That means you liked the food and had a good time,” Bucky says, and then raises a hand when Steve opens his mouth to keep complaining. “I’m paying. Stop arguing with me. You’re not going to change my mind.”

Steve closes his mouth, teeth worrying at his bottom lip before he sighs. “You’re really not going to let me pay, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Split?” Steve suggests after a few seconds.

“No,” Bucky says. “And it’s too late now. My money’s already on the table.”

Steve looks from Bucky’s face down to their table, just in time to see their money disappear along with the dishes. Steve scowls, then turns back to Bucky. “You planned this. You distracted me on purpose.”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “Maybe a little.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “So this is your level of asshole.”

Bucky grins, bumping Steve’s foot with his own under the table. “Now you know.”

Steve rolls his eyes, bumping Bucky back. He’s still grumbling under his breath as they spill into the empty street, which only makes Bucky smile harder. At least until Steve says, “Then you’re going to let me walk you home.”

“What? You don’t have to,” Bucky protests, alarmed.

“I know,” Steve says, all kinds of smug. “But I need to make sure you don’t end up almost killing anyone on the way.”

“It was an accident,” Bucky groans, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Then how about because I don’t want you to fall on your face?”

Bucky drops his hand, raising his eyebrows at Steve. “Want to make sure nothing damages the goods?”

“I don’t know, Bucky.” Steve frowns, tilting his head to the side. “You’re kind of ugly-looking.”

Bucky blinks, shocked, before he bursts out laughing, entire body shaking with it. Steve joins in, and both of them just stand there, in the middle of an empty street, until someone opens up a window in a building near by and yells at them to shut up.

“I guess I deserved that,” Bucky says between laughs, bumping his elbow against Steve’s side as they start walking. “And you’re not much to look at either, pal.”

Steve grins at him, bright and happy. “Thanks.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. They both know they’re lying, and as they walk Bucky tries to ignore how beautiful Steve looks under the moonlight, features sharp and defined, a contrast against the softness of his hair and how plush his lips look.

As they get closer and closer to Bucky’s building, he starts dreading having to say goodbye to Steve. Bucky doesn’t know if part of that is because he knows how much Steve will come to mean to him, or if it’s because of how much fun he had tonight. As it is, he doesn’t want to bring their night to a close, doesn’t want to let Steve go and maybe never see him again.

The thing is, though, Bucky doesn’t want to come off as a creepy. He knows he could invite Steve up for a cup of coffee, but they were complete strangers to each other less than three hours ago. He also doesn’t want to give Steve the wrong idea, that Bucky just wants to have sex with him, to satisfy some fantasy about banging Captain America.

Bucky wouldn’t be opposed to that, if he’s being honest with himself. Although it’s not the idea of fucking Captain America that appeals to him. He much rather likes thinking of having sex with _Steve Rogers_ , who’s as hot as the sun, both literally and figuratively. He wants to get to know Steve as a person before any of that, _if_ they ever get to that point.

Bucky has glimpses of the future, sure, but they didn’t show him anything more than this: _you will meet the love of your life_.

That is all Bucky knows, and that is no guarantee that anything will happen between him and Steve at all.

“I’m in the next block,” Bucky mentions, deliberately slowing his pace so he can have a few extra minutes with Steve, pleased when Steve matches him without question.

“We live kind of close,” Steve tells him, smiling a little. “I’m a few blocks after that.”

Bucky doesn’t ask for more details than that, butterflies flipping in his stomach as he catches sight of his building. In just a few short minutes they’re standing in front of it, Steve with his hands in his pockets, Bucky fidgeting with his keys.

Bucky doesn’t want to say goodbye, but it is time.

“Thanks again,” Bucky starts, clearing his throat, “for the whole saving my life thing. And for letting me pay for our meal.”

Steve huffs, giving Bucky a long look. “I didn’t _let_ you do it. I was just momentarily outsmarted,” he reminds Bucky, sounding all kinds of annoyed.

Bucky can’t help but laugh, a little bit of the tension he’d been carrying just a few moments before disappearing entirely. Especially when Steve smiles back at him, and they stand there, in the middle of the night, staring at each other.

Bucky’s aware they must look like idiots, but he doesn’t particularly care. It feels somewhat precious, this moment, just both of them under the moonlight.

The silence between them breaks when Steve clears his throat, shifting a little in place, hands curling in his pockets. “I should go. Now that I know you’re home safe.”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, unable to hide his disappointment. “Despite everything, it was a fun night,” he adds with a small smile, “and, you know, a good ending to a really weird day.”

_Where I found out you’re the love of my life_ , Bucky’s brain supplies, much to his displeasure.

“It was, yeah,” Steve agrees, eyes bright and soft. His expression hardens into one of determination a second later, laced with a bit of uncertainty when he asks, “Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

Bucky just kind of stares at Steve for a few seconds, _not believing his luck_. Of course he wants to see Steve again, possibly lots of times in addition to this one. He wants them to get to know each other, to maybe become friends, to see where all of this goes and what the future has in store for them.

Maybe it takes Bucky too long to answer, because Steve’s expectant looks dies, face turning into a blank mask. “Of course, you don’t have to. I was just— You have no obligation to say—”

“Yes!” Bucky interrupts him with his very enthusiastic answer, promptly shutting Steve up. “Yes, I’d love to hang out,” he adds, excitement making his skin tingle. “Maybe I could show you some not-so-well-known places around the city. You seemed to really like the restaurant.”

“I did like it,” Steve answers, smiling this tiny beautiful hopeful smile that about _kills Bucky_ in a hundred different ways. “And that sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

Steve laughs, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Fuck yes,” Bucky blurts out, knowing he sounds like a huge fucking dork and should probably chill out a little. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, though, still smiling shyly, which serves to encourage Bucky to ask, “Maybe you could give me your number?” Bucky doesn’t get a ‘yes’ from Steve like he thought he would. Instead, Steve hesitates, his smile slipping, and that’s enough for Bucky to be filled with dread. “You don’t have to,” he amends, trying to fix his fuck up. “You can just give me your email or something.”

“How about _you_ give me your number?” Steve suggests, fishing a little notebook and a small pen from one of his jacket pockets. “Here.”

Bucky tries not to think of how cute it is that Steve carries around a notebook with him at all times. He flips to one of the blank pages at the end, writing down _Nurse Bucky Barnes_ and his number, and makes a last minute decision to add a smiley face at the bottom. He’s a little nervous, if he’s being honest, because this way he has no idea if Steve will ever really contact him.

He wonders if Steve not wanting to give out his number is a spy thing, or more of a consequence of him being a celebrity. Bucky’s aware Steve has no way of knowing if Bucky would reveal this kind of information to the public, and all of Bucky’s reassurances that he would never do something like that wouldn’t be that believable in this situation.

Steve grins when Bucky gives him back the book and pen, big and bright and making him look younger than he is. “Great. I’ll call you.”

“Please do,” Bucky tells him, not caring about how pathetic it makes him seem. “I guess I’ll see you?”

“You’ll see me,” Steve answers, giving Bucky a small wave. “It was nice meeting you, Nurse Barnes.”

_You have no idea, pal_ , Bucky thinks, but what he says is, “You too, Captain Rogers.”

 

**

 

Bucky doesn’t hear from Steve.

It’s Sunday, five days since Bucky’s life took a turn he was not expecting, five days since he’s met his soulmate, five days since Steve’s had his number.

Five days of no calls, no texts, no nothing.

Bucky angrily spreads cream cheese over his bagel, brows furrowed, trying not to let the disappointment he’s feeling ruin breakfast. It’s a Barnes tradition for him and his family to get together every weekend and share their first meal of the day, and Bucky is not about to call even more attention to himself by venting off his frustration or accidentally cutting through his bagel with a knife because he’s upset.

Oh, well, too late for the second one now.

Bucky licks some cream cheese from his palm, doing a wonderful job of ignoring how quiet his parents and sister are being. He doesn’t have to look up from his food to know they’re all _looking_ at him, expectation clear all over their faces.

After another five minutes of that, though, Bucky gets tired of it. He can’t appreciate his bagel when his family is being so _quiet_. They’re usually a loud bunch, so the wrongness of it starts setting Bucky on edge.

So he sighs, drops his bagel on his plate, rests his chin on his hand, and says, “Okay, go.”

And that seems to be all they were waiting for, because a second later his mother and Becca start asking him a hundred different questions, all at once, the loud volume of their voices making him wince. Bucky can’t really understand much of what they’re saying, but he gets the gist.

They all want to know about his, and Bucky uses the word he just caught coming out of his mother’s mouth, _soulmate_. Isn’t that kind of a punch in the gut.

“Yes,” Bucky interrupts them. “I met him on Tuesday.”

“We _know_ that,” Becca snaps, because she’s had the same glimpse Bucky did of his future, which means this will affect her in some way.

Bucky tries not to think about how, but he figures Steve being Captain America has something to do with it.

“We just want to know who he is,” his mother adds, adding sugar to her coffee and stirring it.

Bucky suddenly has about ten different disaster scenarios in his head, all about his family knowing that the love of his life is Steve Rogers, their own Captain America. He can imagine Becca high-pitched screaming and shattering all of the glasses in the house, his mother weeping over the loss of her fine china and because Steve seems like such a good person and Bucky is just _so lucky_ , and his dad letting out a huge sigh and looking at the ceiling as if asking for strength.

So Bucky just says, “His name is Steve. That’s all you’re getting.”

“But _Bucky_ ,” Becca whines.

“Honestly, James,” his mother protests. “You could give us a little more than that.”

Bucky’s dad is the only one who’s quiet, frowning a little as he looks at Bucky with this considering look on his face. It seems as if he’s reaching into the depths of Bucky’s soul and reading his mind. So Bucky quickly looks down at his bagel.

“C’mon, tell us _something_ ,” Becca begs.

Bucky uses that moment to grab his bagel and stuff half of it in his mouth. He shrugs helplessly at Becca, because they all know not to speak with their mouths full in front of their mother unless they want to find plastic butterflies in their food next time.

“ _James_ ,” his mother warns him, stern.

Bucky sighs, because he knows that tone. Their mother also raised them not to be jerks to each other, much to Bucky’s dismay. Still, he takes his sweet time chewing and swallowing his food, and even goes as far as reaching for his glass and taking two sips of his orange juice. All the while Becca stares at him, getting so red in the face out of sheer frustration that it looks like she’s about to explode.

Bucky wouldn’t mind if that was true. But only for about three seconds. Then he’d miss his little sister.

“I don’t know much,” Bucky tells them, which is not exactly a lie. “We _only_ just met a few days ago, but he seems to be a really nice person.”

And isn’t that the understatement of the year.

“Really?” his mother asks, smiling.

“Really.” Bucky nods. “He has my number, so maybe we’ll see each other again soon.”

Becca frowns. “That’s it?”

“Yep,” Bucky says, because that’s all he’s willing to give them.

At least for now.

Becca deflates, leaning back against her seat and looking at Bucky with so much disappointment Bucky kind of wants to laugh. “That’s so lame.”

_You have no idea_ , Bucky thinks to himself. “Can we go back to eating breakfast now?”

“Yes,” his dad says, the first words out of his mouth since they sat down at the table. And then, much to Bucky’s shock, he adds, “And don’t worry, son, you’ll see him again.”

 

**

 

It takes until Thursday for his dad’s words to come true.

Bucky wakes up that morning and stares at his ceiling, the lingering images of the little glimpse he just had running through his head. Nothing more than the vision of a bird with a broken wing, lying on a bed with white sheets.

“Well, okay,” Bucky murmurs, voice rough with sleep. He scrubs a hand over his face, and then reaches over to turn off his alarm clock. He pointedly ignores how awfully early in the morning it is, reminding himself that he actually _loves_ his job, despite the weird hours he has to keep sometimes.

As he walks to the hospital that morning, Bucky keeps an eye out for any injured birds in his path. He doesn’t find any, but he does almost get trampled by an ogre when he goes to buy his daily dose of coffee, this time with a little shot of good luck so he can get through the day.

Claire passes him by on her way out, looking exhausted. “Bucky.”

“Rough night?” Bucky asks, already doing his mental checks in case he has a lot to worry about today.

“Rough yesterday morning,” Claire tells him with a humourless smile. “It was a calm night.”

“Your devil giving you trouble?”

Claire rolls her eyes, bumping Bucky’s shoulder as she resumes walking. “Goodbye, Barnes.”

Bucky shakes his head, gulping the rest of his coffee and throwing the cup on the closest trash can.

Claire was right: it was a calm night. And, for once, that turns into a calm morning, with Bucky taking his time with his rounds and checking on the overnight patients as he goes. The most exciting thing that happens is when Bucky manages to avoid getting puked on by a five-year-old who stapled his fingers together.

That is, until Bucky grabs a chart for one Mr. Wilson.

Bucky is glad he asked for a shot of good luck with his coffee today, because as soon as he pulls the curtain around Mr. Wilson’s hospital bed, his heart almost jumps right out of his chest in surprise.

The man sitting on the bed has beautiful red and white wings spurting from his back, the left one bending at an awkward angle. It’s obviously broken, some of the feathers missing, and the man winces a little every time he shifts in place.

Beside him, with a hand on his shoulder providing comfort and support, is Steve.

“Well, that explains it,” Bucky says out loud, caught between the rush of _aha!_ he gets when he sees the man with the broken wing and the absolute surprise that is seeing Steve after over a week of nothing.

Steve’s attention snaps to him at that, his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and panic. He looks from Bucky to Sam and back again, drops his hand as if he’s been burned, and immediately says, “He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just my friend.”

“What?” Bucky blinks, flabbergast.

At the same time, Mr. Wilson glances up at Steve, offense written all of his face. “Excuse you, I’m the best friend you’ve got.”

Bucky is torn between confusion at Steve’s outburst and relief so deep that Steve is in fact single that he finds himself without knowing what to do. Which is probably why he says, “That’s good to know.”

Mr. Wilson turns to him, eyebrows almost climbing to his hairline, now looking at Bucky with interest. Bucky flushes, words catching up to him, and clears his throat, avoiding Steve’s gaze.

“So, Mr. Wilson—”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupts him, sounding upset.

“Wait,” Mr. Wilson says, eyes going from Steve to Bucky. “You’re Nurse Barnes? The one Steve rescued from death?”

“He wouldn’t have died,” Steve mumbles, shoulders slumped.

“That’s what the name tag says,” Bucky answers, pointing at his badge. He can’t deny he’s pleased that apparently Steve talked about him to his friend, warmth rushing through him and almost making him forget that he was upset about the no contact from Steve.

“It’s nice putting a face to the name,” Mr. Wilson says, grinning at Bucky. “Steve talks _a lot_ about you.”

A wave of heat catches Bucky by surprise, and when he turns to Steve is to see him blushing so hard his entire face and neck are red.

“ _Sam_ ,” Steve hisses, and Bucky could swear his eyes are glowing.

“Okay, okay,” Sam says, and then addresses Bucky, “As much as I’d love to keep embarrassing him, I better stop before he sets the building on fire.”

That only makes things worse, the air around them hot and sticky.

Bucky kind of laughs, already feeling himself sweat under his scrubs. “How about you go grab some water while I take care of your friend’s wing?”

Steve ducks his head, looking more dejected than Bucky’s ever seen him. “Okay,” he says reluctantly. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sam answers, and then smiles. “Your boy will take care of me.”

Bucky isn’t sure if the rush of heat he feels is from Steve or from his own embarrassment. As it is, he ignores the spark of pleasure at being called Steve’s boy, and instead focuses on the work he has to do.

“Alright, let’s take a look at your wings,” Bucky tells Sam, giving his back to Steve and listening to his footsteps as he walks away.

The air turns blissfully cool around them once again, and Bucky lets out a breath of relief.

“I wasn’t lying, you know,” Sam starts, and then hisses when Bucky starts splinting his wing.

“About Steve burning down the building?” Bucky asks, playing dumb.

Sam has his number, giving him a look so flat that Bucky can’t help but shrink back a little. “He’s only met you once, but you made an impression. Enough for him to mention you in conversation at least three times.”

“You were counting?” Bucky snarks, somewhat uncomfortable.

Part of him likes hearing this and knowing he made a big enough impression on Steve for him to talk about Bucky to people he is close to. Another part of him thinks Sam shouldn’t be the one telling him this. And a very small, pathetic, and kind of dramatic part of Bucky wonders why, if that’s the case, Steve didn’t call him like he said he would.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Sam answers patiently, voice a bit strained as Bucky works on his wing. “Steve’s a great guy.”

It’s such a small sentence, but the meaning it carries echoes in Bucky’s heart.

“I know,” Bucky says, and then offers Sam a smile. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you.”

“He is,” Sam agrees, staring past Bucky’s shoulder. “Especially considering how fast I forgave him for drinking all the coffee this morning.”

“I made you a fresh pot,” Steve says, glancing between Bucky and Sam with curiosity, “which you drained, by the way.”

“I need my caffeine,” Sam sniffs, and then hisses as Bucky finishes tying his wing.

“There you go,” Bucky says, taking a step back. “Did the doctor explain—”

“I know the drill,” Sam sighs, and at Bucky’s disbelieving look he adds, “Pararescue.”

“Ah.” Bucky nods in understanding. “Still, I need to go over this with you again. Protocol.”

Sam and Steve pay attention as Bucky goes over the care Sam must have with his wing. It only takes a few minutes, and because of Sam’s experience Bucky doesn’t need to go over the details more than once.

“I’ll miss flying,” Sam mumbles, which earns him a pat on the shoulder from Steve.

“A doctor will be here soon to check on you,” Bucky tells him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “but I can already start on your discharge papers.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No problem. Just be more careful next time.”

“I will.”

Bucky sneaks a glance at Steve, just in time for their gazes to meet. Blood rushes to Bucky’s cheeks, making him jerk back in embarrassment. “I’ll just—,” he points a thumb behind him, then promptly turns on his heels and starts walking away.

“Bucky!” Steve calls out to him, following behind.

Bucky only manages to turn a corner into a less busy part of the ER before turning to Steve, heart in his throat.

“Yes?”

 Steve lets out a slow breath, eyes flitting over Bucky’s face. “Hi.”

Bucky blinks, dumbfounded. “Hi? _Really_?”

“I knew you were mad at me,” Steve mutters, lips turned down, looking like a kicked puppy.

“I…” Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not mad. Disappointed, yes. But not mad. I mean, we don’t really know each other. I shouldn’t have expected you to ca—”

“I was going to,” Steve protests, cutting him off. “I even got a new phone separate from all of the,” he waves his hand and makes a face, wrinkling his nose, “you know.”

“Superhero stuff?” Bucky offers.

“Yes! But I—”

“Look, you don’t have to explain.” Bucky shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“I _want_ to explain,” Steve replies, jaw tight. “I meant to call. I had a really good time, and I was going to call you the next day, but I was sent out for work. No outside communication. I couldn’t—”

“Call me,” Bucky finishes for him, realization dawning. “It’s okay, Steve.”

Because now it is. Bucky’s kind of pissed off at himself for not considering that Steve might have been busy with work. He’s a _superhero_ , for fuck’s sake, and he’s obviously needed to take care of situations from time to time.

“I only got back yesterday,” Steve continues, as if he hasn’t heard him, “but it was too late to call, and then Sam broke his wing and—”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says loudly, resting a hand on Steve’s arm. “I get it. You were busy. It’s okay.”

Steve doesn’t look like he believes Bucky much, but his face softens, gaze falling on Bucky’s hand on his arm. Bucky takes his hand back, fumbling with his hospital badge, trying to will his cheeks not to flush.

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve says, throat working as he swallows, his chest rising and falling as he takes a deep breath and prepares himself for something.

“Yes?” Bucky licks his lips, butterflies in his stomach, not knowing what to expect.

So he’s all kinds of surprised when Steve asks, “Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”

Still, Bucky smiles a slow smile and says, “Yes.”

 

**

 

**Unknown Number [9:27AM]:**

_Hi, Bucky_ :D

**Unknown Number [9:27AM]:**

_Thought I’d text you so you could keep my number_

**Unknown Number [9:27AM]:**

_I can’t wait for Friday. Hope you have a nice day!_

**Unknown Number [9:28AM]:**

_This is Steve btw_ ;)

 

Bucky looks down at his phone, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. Both because Steve _finally_ texted him and now Bucky has his contact info, but also because of how _cute_ Steve’s texts are, emojis and all. So Bucky taps on the screen, smile widening, and saves Steve’s number to his contact list.

 

**

 

The thing is, Bucky is cursed.

Okay, maybe not _cursed_ , aside from the whole psychic thing, but he does have bad luck. Bucky suspects it has something to do with him abusing good luck shots at _Cafae_ , the fae café, and this is the universe’s way of balancing things out.

So of course, when Friday comes around, the day he is supposed to go on his maybe-date with Steve, he has one of his worst shifts in a while.

It starts with Bucky getting fairy dust stuck to his hair when sees to a fae with iron burns on their hands, their wings fluttering so fast they make a mess of the bed, the floor, and of Bucky. It follows with a teenage shifter puking all over Bucky’s scrub pants while getting wolfsbane out of his system, face pale and skin shiny with sweat. It continues with Bucky having to tackle and sedate a vampire trying to glamour one of the patients into letting her drink their blood. And to top it all off, just as Bucky thinks things are about to calm down, they get news of a building collapse and paramedics sending patients their way.

To say that Bucky is tired when his shift comes to an end is an understatement. He drags himself to his locker, muscles tight and feet hurting, his hair coming out of the ponytail at the back of his head. He tries his best to make himself presentable, changing into the skinny jeans, red henley, and black jacket he brought along with him. He even runs a comb through his hair before tying it back into a bun this time, a few stubborn strands coming loose.

Bucky startles a little when his phone vibrates in his pocket, blinking heavily as he checks the screen.

 

**Steve <3 [3:11PM]:**

_I’m out front_ :D

 

Bucky snorts out a laugh at Steve’s apparent love for emojis, typing out an answer that he’ll be right out. He opens the camera and checks himself on his phone, ignoring the dark circles under his eyes and the spots of glitter still sticking to his hairline. He’ll do.

Steve is waiting just a few feet away from the hospital doors, dressed much like Bucky is, with the addition of a cap and sunglasses. He lights up when he catches sight of Bucky, lifting a hand up in a wave. Bucky bites back a smile, and just waves back.

“Hey, Bu— why do you look so tired?” Steve asks, happiness at seeing Bucky turning to concern.

“Busy shift,” Bucky answers, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to hide a yawn. “Lots happened. Hi, Steve.”

Steve huffs, brow furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Bucky shrugs, because he doesn’t really know how to answer. Shifts like this are always difficult, both because they make Bucky tired as hell but also because it’s never easy to see people hurt. Some sights stick with him more than others, like the victims of the building collapse, and it’s hard to let go.

Steve makes a little sound in the back of his throat, taking a step closer and resting his hand on the small of Bucky’s back. “C’mon.”

“The coffee shop is that way.” Bucky points in the opposite direction, but lets Steve lead him where he wants him.

“We’re not going to the coffee shop,” Steve tells him, hailing a cab.

“I… what? But our…” Bucky doesn’t say _date_ , the word stuck in his throat, but the disappointment is evident in the tone of his voice.

“We’re rescheduling,” Steve says, gently pushing Bucky into the car, cupping a hand on the back of Bucky’s head so he doesn’t hit it on the door. “I’m taking you home.”

“Steve, no,” Bucky protests, without much heat.

Steve ignores him, giving Bucky’s address to the driver. “You’re exhausted,” he turns to Bucky, “so the only place you’re going right now is your bed.”

“But—”

Steve shuts him up by wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. He’s impossibly warm, and Bucky can’t help the little sigh that escapes him, his tired muscles relaxing, eyes almost fluttering shut.

“See?” Steve murmurs. “You’re asleep on your feet. We can do this some other time.”

“But I wanted to go out with you today,” Bucky complains, slurring his speech as he leans against Steve’s side, chasing the heat.

“Me too,” Steve admits, lips curled up at the corners. “But I’m not doing this when you can barely keep your eyes open.”

“They’re open,” Bucky blinks, only to realize that they were closed a minute ago. He widens them, focusing on Steve. “Huh.”

Steve snorts, pulling Bucky closer. “See?”

“Shuddup.”

Bucky yawns, feeling all kinds of warm and cozy under Steve’s arm, eyes heavy with sleep. The day catches up to him on the drive to his place, and he must doze off, because the next thing he knows they’re in front of his building and Steve is gently shaking his shoulder.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve murmurs, words soft. “Help me out a little.”

Bucky lets out a little sleepy sound, rubbing his cheek against Steve’s shoulder, feeling the cool leather of the jacket against his skin. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, eyes heavy with sleep.

“Sorry, Buck, can’t do that,” Steve laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “We gotta get you to bed.”

“Sounds nice,” Bucky agrees, letting Steve pull him out of the cab and wrap an arm around his waist. “I like my bed.”

“I’m sure it’s a great bed.”

“The best,” Bucky corrects, tripping a little on his feet as they walk to his building. Steve tightens his hold on Bucky’s waist, and Bucky shamelessly leans against him, his head on Steve’s shoulder. “‘M sleepy.”

“You worked hard today, huh?”

“So hard,” Bucky groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “ _Too_ hard.”

“Yeah, I get it.” They stop in front of the door, and when nothing happens Steve turns to him, “Bucky, you need to get your keys.”

“Oh, okay.” Bucky fishes them out of his pocket, trying his best to find the right one without taking his head off Steve’s shoulder. It takes him a few tries, but eventually gets the door unlocked, Steve helping him inside.

“What floor are you on?” Steve asks, hand on the small of Bucky’s back as they get on the elevator.

“Seventh,” Bucky answers through a yawn. “Unlucky 13, with the red door.”

Bucky leans against the elevator door, shivering at the sudden cold now that Steve isn’t holding him up anymore. He blinks through half-lidded eyes, taking in Steve standing by his side, the sharpness of his jaw, his pink lips pressed together, the tiny furrow between his brows.

Bucky reaches out without thinking, thumb brushing over Steve’s skin, successfully making his concerned expression disappear. It gives place to something akin to fondness, as Steve smiles a little, his eyes bright when he looks up at Bucky.

“‘M sorry I suck,” Bucky tells him, dropping his hand.

The furrow is back in full force, as Steve turns fully to him. “What? You don’t suck.”

“I ruined our coffee thing by being too tired.”

_Thing_. Bucky refuses it to call it a date, at least for now. Especially when he has no idea if Steve was going to end up kissing him at the end of it, therefore actually _confirming_ if it was a date or not.

Steve shakes his head, bumping his arm against Bucky’s. “You didn’t ruin anything. And it’s not your fault you had a rough shift.”

“Promise?”

Steve offers him a smile, crossing an X over his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Bucky lets out a relieved breath, amused at Steve’s vow. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, and then adds, “You didn’t have to bring me home, either.”

“I disagree.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “You can barely stand you’re so tired.”

“I’m standing right now.”

“You’re leaning all of your weight against the door.”

Bucky huffs. “Stop being reasonable.”

The elevator pings, signaling its arrival on Bucky’s floor.

“Saved by the bell,” Steve snarks, once again wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist.

Bucky hands Steve his keys, letting him worry about unlocking the door. Bucky is already using all of his energy to avoid sliding down and curling up on the floor for a nap, limbs syrupy as he gets inside his apartment and is filled with the sense of home and comfort and safety.

Steve gets to him to his room, and Bucky can’t help the groan he lets out when he flops down on his bed.

“Sweet heaven,” Bucky sighs, hugging his pillow to him. “I love you.”

Bucky can hear Steve laughing at him, not that he minds. Steve’s already been witness to more than one of Bucky’s dorky moments, and this just adds to the list.

“Let’s get you out of your boots,” Steve says, hands wrapping themselves around Bucky’s ankle, warm and strong.

Bucky hums, letting Steve make work of his laces before he kicks off his shoes. He wiggles his toes, hissing at the low-grade pain he feels on his feet, a result of standing all day. Now that he’s in bed, Bucky registers all the little aches and pains he’s feeling, as well as how uncomfortable he feels still in his jeans and jacket.

Bucky squirms in place until he’s on his back, throwing his jacket on the floor before he focuses on his pants, popping the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper. He doesn’t hear the sharp intake of breath, nor does he notice how the air around him turns hotter, turning his room into an oven. All that he cares about is getting out of the leg traps that are his pants, kicking his legs around until he’s free.

“Yes,” Bucky breathes out, start-fished on the bed, eyes closed, already half asleep.

He’s so tired he can barely string two thoughts together, body already melting into the mattress as the tension slowly leaves his body. Before he falls under, though, he feels someone cover him with a blanket and a warm hand run through his hair.

“Sweet dreams, Bucky,” someone says, and a second later everything goes dark.

 

**

 

Bucky wakes up disoriented, his apartment dark, wearing only his red henley, black boxer briefs, and fuzzy grey socks. His mouth tastes like someone died in it, and he smells less than pleasant, like sweat and hospital and the lingering scent of puke.

“So gross,” Bucky grumbles, wrinkling his nose at himself.

He rubs sleep out of his eyes, blindly reaching for his phone. His hand meets the cool surface of his nightstand, fingers hitting the sharp edge of paper. Bucky frowns, grabbing the paper between two fingers and bringing it up in front of him.

 

_Hey, Bucky_

_You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you._

_I went down to the bodega across the street and bought you some food, because I saw you didn’t have any and thought you might be hungry when you woke up._

_I also locked everything behind me when I left._

_Hope you don’t think that’s too weird._

_Feel better!_

  * _Steve_



 

“Oh, no,” Bucky whispers as he sits upright on the bed, note falling on the floor next to him. “Oh, _no_.”

Panic slams into Bucky as memories from earlier in the afternoon come back, from him snuggling Steve in the cab to— Bucky makes a dying sound, covering his face with his hands and lying down again. He _took his pants off in front of Steve_.

His _soulmate_.

And not because they were about to get down and dirty together.

Bucky whimpers, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He wonders if he can will himself to forget this ever happened if he wishes for it hard enough, embarrassment making him hot and clammy with sweat. That only adds to the disgust he was already feeling, the sanctuary of his bedroom not enough to bring his spirits up.

Especially not after this _disaster_.

Bucky lets out a long breath, curling on his side and tucking his hands under his chin. He blinks a few times, eyes unfocused, trying to think of what to do. The most pressing matter is his need for a shower, because he knows he’ll feel marginally better once he’s clean and his hair is smelling of lemons. Next is probably sending Steve a thousand different apologies, and hoping to fuck he accepts them. And if that doesn’t work, Bucky figures he can just pack his bags and move someplace far far away.

Bucky gets up, pulling his shirt off and throwing it in the hamper. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror, not wanting to be faced with what Steve must have seen when he took Bucky home. The hot water is soothing against his aching muscles, bathtub sparkling with the last remnants of glitter stuck to his skin.

He’s more clear-headed when he’s out of the shower and dressed in comfortable clothes, although the embarrassment still lingers. He’s also starving, stomach rumbling loudly, begging for food.

Apparently Steve’s concept of _some food_ , Bucky discovers as he stands in his kitchen, mouth parted in shock, involves a variety of fruits, milk and orange juice, everything Bucky needs to make a sandwich, _and_ packaged chocolate chip cookies. It all sits in Bucky’s kitchen, waiting for him to need it.

“What the fuck,” Bucky mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. That’s all he needs, really. To find out that not only is Steve nice enough to take Bucky home and tuck him into bed, but he’s also _kind_ and _generous_. “Really, Barnes.”

Bucky shakes his head at himself, grabbing the orange juice and sandwich ingredients, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. There is absolutely no need for him to feel all warm and fuzzy at the thought of Steve taking care of him like this.

And that’s what Bucky keeps telling himself when he settles down to eat, queueing the last two episodes of _Westworld_ he missed because he was working. There’s something soothing about tv shows that fuck with his reality, mostly because his life has been so unbelievable lately that Bucky wonders if this is all really happening to him.

Bucky gets his answer when he goes in search of his jacket, finding it folded and on top of his dresser. Courtesy of Steve Rogers, no doubt. He grabs his phone, eyes scanning the email and text notifications, stopping when he finds Steve’s name.

 

**Steve** **< 3 [7:47PM]:**

_Hey Bucky, just wanted to make sure you’re okay_ :D

**Steve** **< 3 [7:47PM]:**

_And let me know when you want to go grab that coffee!_

 

Bucky insides melt, relief sweeping through him. He didn’t ruin this, then. Thank fuck.

 

**Bucky [9:03PM]:**

_Hi Steve_

**Bucky [9:03PM]:**

_I’m okay_! _Thanks for making sure I got home safe_

**Bucky [9:03PM]:**

_And for all the food. You really didn’t have to_

**Bucky [9:03PM]:**

_I’m free next Friday if you still want to see me_ ;)

 

Bucky hits send on the last message, making himself comfortable on his couch, opening his package of cookies, and stuffing one in his mouth as he waits for an answer. Two minutes later his phone vibrates on his knee, tickling him a little.

 

**Steve** **< 3 [9:05PM]:**

_Next Friday is perfect_

**Steve** **< 3 [9:06PM]:**

_And I wanted to. One moldy orange doesn’t count as having food in your fridge_ >:(

 

Bucky snorts through his nose, eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s just getting to know Steve, but he already has a fondness for Steve’s sassy replies.

 

**Bucky [9:06PM]:**

_Excuse you_

**Bucky [9:06PM]:**

_I happen to be very fond of that orange_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [9:07PM]:**

…………

**Steve** **< 3 [9:07PM]:**

_Well that’s awkward because I threw it in the trash_

 

Bucky eats another cookie, changing his keyboard to the emoji one so he can type out a proper response.

 

**Bucky [9:07PM]:**

:O :O :O :O

**Bucky [9:07PM]:**

_HOW COULD YOU_ :(

 

**Steve** **< 3 [9:08PM]:**

✿

**Steve** **< 3 [9:08PM]:**

_Accept this rose as a symbol of my deepest and sincerest apologies_

 

Bucky grins, cheeks flushing a little.

 

**Bucky [9:09PM]:**

_I don’t know…. that orange was really important to me_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [9:09PM]:**

_I’ll make it up to you_ ;)

 

Bucky’s stomach flips, flush deepening as his mind comes up with a thousand different ways Steve might do that. He has to admit he has one particular scenario in mind, which involves Steve’s lips and Bucky getting a second chance at taking his pants off in front of him.

Not that he texts back any of that, though. Instead, he sends:

 

**Bucky [9:09PM]:**

_Can’t wait._

 

**

 

Bucky drinks plain coffee the entire week.

The second time he stops by the fae cafe and just orders an americano without an extra shot of anything, the barista frowns at him and asks if everything is okay.

“I’m fine,” Bucky answers, fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Just wanted to be totally myself this week. See how it goes.”

That’s not a complete lie. It’s been a while since Bucky spent more than two days without some kind of charm to aid him through his shifts, be it either a shot to help him along or a protection charm from his mom.

This time, though, he doesn’t want to risk the universe having to get even, to balance things out. So he goes through the week just as his plain self, without a sprinkle of good luck or charisma or patience, just so nothing prevents him from going on his maybe-date with Steve.

And it works.

Despite having his usual car accident victims and taking care of stab wounds and shifter bites, nothing out of the ordinary happens the entire week. Bucky is still tired at the end of his shifts, but nothing compared to the bone-deep exhaustion of last time.

Bucky has to admit that the texts he and Steve have been trading throughout the week also have something to do with his ability to maintain a good mood day after day. His stomach flips and his face breaks into a smile whenever he sees Steve’s name flash on his screen, making him forget for a few seconds the catheters he has to insert and the infected wounds he has to check.

 

Monday

**Steve** **< 3 [10:15AM]:**

_I pet a dog today :D_

**Steve** **< 3 [10:15AM]:**

_His name is Lucky and he only has one eye_

**Steve** **< 3 [10:16AM]:**

_He’s the best dog in the entire world_

 

**Bucky [11:56AM]:**

_Steve pls all dogs are the best dogs_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [2:13PM]:**

_He took a shit in one of Tony’s Iron Man helmets_ :’D

**Steve** **< 3 [2:13PM]:**

_So he’s the best of dogs_

**Steve** **< 3 [2:13PM]:**

_Doggo Supreme_

**Steve** **< 3 [2:13PM]:**

_My hero_

 

Bucky has to find an empty call room to hide in, face red from trying to hold back the laughter that wants to burst out of him. When he manages, he collapses on the bed, entire body shaking as he laughs until his stomach hurts and tears stream down his face.

 

Tuesday

**Bucky [5:33PM]:**

_Are you missing your shield?_

**Bucky [5:33PM]:**

_Bc some kid came in to the ER today bc she SWALLOWED IT_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [8:23PM]:**

_Oh shit is she okay???_

**Steve** **< 3 [8:23PM]:**

_It was from one of those toys wasn’t it?_

**Steve** **< 3 [8:23PM]:**

_I told the PR team they were a hazard_

 

**Bucky [8:35PM]:**

_She’s fine_

**Bucky [8:35PM]:**

_She just has to poop it out_

**Bucky [8:35PM]:**

_Her dad was really freaked out though_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [8:37PM]:**

_I should send them something to apologize_

 

**Bucky [8:37PM]:**

_????????_

**Bucky [8:37PM]:**

_It’s not your fault though???_

**Bucky [8:38PM]:**

_And like I said she’s okay_

**Bucky [8:38PM]:**

_I actually think she thought it was kind of cool tbh bc she started smiling when we told her dad all they had to do was wait for it to come out_

**Bucky [8:38PM]:**

_Kids are weird_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [8:43PM]:**

_Yeah I’m gonna send them something_

 

Bucky shakes his head, but he isn’t surprised when, two days, he hears a few of the nurses gossiping about the little girl who swallowed the shield.

“The picture is all over Twitter,” Kamala comments, smiling as she leans against the nurse station counter. “It’s so cute. She has this huge smile on her face.”

“And the Captain looks hot as fuck, too,” Billy sighs, scrolling through his phone. “With the muscles and the grin and his entire face.”

Bucky snorts, trying to hide it with a cough. The noise still calls attention to him, making Billy and Kamala turn to look at him.

“What? You don’t think so?” Billy raises an eyebrow, and pushes his phone in front of Bucky’s face. “Look at him. He’s so beautiful he makes angels weep.”

Bucky stares at the picture, smiling despite himself when he sees Steve with the little girl on his lap, both of them holding shields. Hers is a small plastic version, meant for kids to play with it, while Steve’s is the real deal.

“He’s alright, I guess,” Bucky lies, shrugging one shoulder.

“You obviously have no taste, Barnes,” Kamala shoots back. “That man is fine as hell. But I guess I shouldn’t expect much from someone who thinks wearing lime green crocs is acceptable.”

Bucky gasps, offended. “That was _one time_!” he hisses. “We promised to never speak of it again.”

“Did we?” Kamala smiles, batting her lashes.

Bucky huffs and walks away, but not before he hears Kamala and Billy laughing. He grabs his phone, flicking through his recent texts until he finds Steve’s name.

 

**Bucky [2:20PM]:**

_You’re an absolute gem_

 

He isn’t expecting a response right away, so he’s a little startled when he sees his phone light up with a new incoming text.

 

**Steve** **< 3 [2:20PM]:**

_??????_

**Steve** **< 3 [2:20PM]:**

_Although my jaw has been described as being so sharp it could cut glass so I guess that’s okay_

 

Bucky presses his lips together, fighting back a smile. He has to admit people aren’t wrong to describe Steve that way, though.

 

**Bucky [2:21PM]:**

_Punk_

**Bucky [2:21PM]:**

_You did a really nice thing for that little girl_ :)

 

**Steve** **< 3 [2:21PM]:**

_Jerk_

**Steve** **< 3 [2:21PM]:**

_I just wanted to make her feel better_

 

Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest, affection rushing through him and making him smile. That sounds like the Steve Bucky is getting know: a man who deeply cares about others.

 

**Bucky [2:22PM]:**

_Like I said_

**Bucky [2:22PM]:**

_An absolute gem_

 

**

 

“Someone’s awfully happy today,” Claire pipes up, eyeing Bucky with suspicion.

“And someone’s awfully grumpy,” Bucky throws back, giving Claire a pointed look. “Did your daredevil do something stupid again?”

Claire doesn’t say anything, but after a few seconds she sighs, mumbling, “When does he not?”

Bucky rests a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it a little. “Let me know when you want to go out and get blackout drunk. I’ll be your designated driver.”

Claire smiles, just a little twitch of her lips. “You’re not so bad, Barnes.”

“Please, you love me.”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” Claire deadpans, her smile reaching her eyes when Bucky clutches at his chest.

“Shot through the heart,” Bucky gasps. “See if I buy you coffee at the beginning of our shifts ever again.”

“You never did,” Claire reminds him, bumping against his side when she walks away, smile still in place.

“And I’m not gonna start!” Bucky yells back over his shoulder, grinning when Claire lifts a hand and flips him off.

What she said is true, though. He is in a good mood. It’s Friday, his shift is almost done and there have been no disasters, his hair looks fucking fantastic and just the right kind of wavy as it curls under his ears, and in about thirty minutes he is going on his maybe-date with Steve.

So Bucky has a bounce in his step as he finishes his rounds, making sure all of his patients for the day are okay and their charts are updated. It takes him a little longer than usual to get everything set, and he shoots a quick text to Steve letting him know he’ll will be a little late. They’re meeting at the coffee shop this time, instead of walking there together from the hospital.

 

**Steve** **< 3 [3:07PM]:**

_It’s okay I just got here_

**Steve** **< 3 [3:07PM]:**

_I’ll grab us a table and order the last two blueberry muffins I see on the display_

 

**Bucky [3:12PM]:**

_U r a true gentleman_

**Bucky [3:12PM]:**

_I love blueberries_

 

**Steve** **< 3 [3:12PM]:**

_Oh I’m sorry I’m ordering them just for me_ ;)

 

**Bucky [3:13PM]:**

_THE BETRAYAL!!!!!!_

**Bucky [3:13PM]:**

_I’m heading out and will be there in about 10min to KICK YOUR ASS_

 

Bucky gets a picture from Steve about five minutes after that, while he’s on his way to the cafe, now dressed in jeans, a grey long sleeved shirt, and his black leather jacket. Bucky opens the text, faced with the image of a muffin wrapper covered in crumbs with the caption: _one down_.

If Bucky picks up the pace and starts walking faster after that, well, no one needs to know.

The door opens for Bucky when he gets to the cafe, his eyes scanning the room in search for Steve. He sees him by one of the far tables tucked in one of the corners, with a clear view of the room and all of the exits.

Steve catches sight of him as Bucky moves through the small crowd of people, eyes shadowed by the cap he’s wearing. Bucky can still see him smirk, though, and the way he grabs the last blueberry muffin, slowly bringing it to his mouth.

Bucky is on him before Steve can take a bite, one hand wrapped around Steve’s wrist while the other plucks the muffin from his hand. “Nope,” he says, taking a huge bite of the pastry before letting go of him and sitting down in front of Steve, eyes narrowed.

Steve, for his turn, is laughing, head ducked and shoulders shaking, one of his hands clutching at his chest. Bucky just chews, cheeks puffed out, and every time Steve lifts his head up to look at him, it sets him off again.

Bucky steals Steve’s mug, grimacing at the bitter taste of black coffee without sugar. It helps him wash down the muffin, though, clearing his mouth so he can say, “Are you done?”

Steve snorts out a laugh, wiping his eyes, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Bucky murmurs, but grins when Steve bumps their feet together under the table.

“Good thing I brought this,” Steve says, and next thing he knows Bucky is being handed a rose, bright red and beautiful.

“What.” Bucky blinks, reaching out to take it, fingers brushing against Steve’s and making him shiver.

“A symbol of my deepest sincerest apologies,” Steve tells him, ears red. “Again.”

“Oh my god.” Bucky laughs, remembering their previous text conversations. “Are you serious?”

Steve shrugs, lips quirked up. “Do you forgive me?”

Bucky shakes his head. “There’s nothing to forgive, you big lug.”

“Oh, good,” Steve breathes out in relief, and then adds, “So does this mean I can eat the rest of the muffin?”

Bucky snatches the muffin from the table, holding it close to his chest. “No.”

Steve rolls his eyes, although his expression is fond.

They order drinks after Bucky apologizes for stealing Steve’s coffee, a cinnamon latte for Bucky while Steve sticks to his plain black coffee with no sugar and no cream. They sit in silence for a few beats, just watching people move through the shop, occasionally bumping feet under the table.

“You look better today,” Steve comments shyly, rising his mug to his lips in an attempt to hide the red tinging his cheeks.

“I _feel_ better today,” Bucky admits. “I’m sorry again for last time. I should’ve canceled when I realized how tired I was.”

“It’s okay. And I have to admit, you’re funny when you’re sleepy.”

Bucky groans, covering his face with his hands. “I’m really _really_ sorry for that. And if I did anything that made you uncomfortable.”

_Like taking my pants off in front of you_ , Bucky thinks, although he doesn’t say it. Not that he needs to, if judging by the way Steve is looking at him.

“You didn’t,” Steve says firmly, blush receding, and then adds with as much seriousness as he can muster, “Maybe aside from professing your love to your bed. I did feel like I was intruding in a very special moment.”

Bucky makes a little dying down in the back of his throat, dropping his head and resting it on the table. He can hear Steve laugh, which only makes him hit his forehead gently on the table.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve tells him, and Bucky doesn’t need to be looking at him to know that he’s smiling. “It was kind of cute.”

Bucky lifts his head, stomach flipping, and glances at Steve from under his lashes. “Only kind of?”

“Maybe a little more than kind of,” Steve replies, smiling.

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush, eyes falling to his blueberry muffin so he doesn’t have to look directly at Steve. “Well, thanks.”

Steve lets Bucky’s awkwardness pass, changing the subject. “So, things are going okay at the hospital?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, grateful. “The little girl who swallowed your shield was pretty much the most interesting thing that’s happened this week. Oh, and the dude who came in with a candle stuck in his ass.”

“What?” Steve chokes, eyes widening in horror. “Why would anyone— What?”

Bucky laughs at Steve’s reaction, taking a sip of his latte. “It’s normal, actually.”

“People coming in with candles up their asses?” Steve asks, scandalized.

“Or phallic foods and sex toys,” Bucky adds. “And yeah. We get at least one of those every month.”

“ _Food_?” Steve gapes. “Oh my god.”

“Some people don’t have money to spend on good toys. It happens.”

“Can’t they just use their fingers like everyone else?” Steve asks, and then immediately snaps his mouth shut, face turning an alarming shade of red.

Bucky can recognize panic when he sees it, and he can feel the heat coming from Steve, so he offers Steve a smirk, nudging Steve’s foot with his own. “I guess they like to go deeper.”

Steve makes a little choked up noise, expression twisting as if he’s in pain. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, because this line of conversation is making him hot, the air around them warm and a little stifling. “Pet any dogs besides Lucky this week?”

Steve lights up, lips stretching into a breathtaking smile. “I did. She was a Corgi named Killer and she let me give her belly rubs.”

Bucky listens as Steve talks excitedly about dogs, breaking down his muffin so he can eat the blueberries separately. It’s cute, seeing how excited Steve gets when talking about animals, hands moving in front of him and his eyes bright.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” Steve tells him, sighing a little. “Couldn’t get one before the serum, though.”

“Allergies?” Bucky asks tentatively, not knowing how open Steve is to talk about the past, even though he was the one who brought it up.

“That too, but I was I poor as shit, Buck,” Steve answers, shaking his head. “Barely had money to feed myself, let alone care for a dog.”

“You could get one now.”

Steve frowns, considering. “I don’t know. I’m home most of the time, but sometimes I’m away for days, if not weeks. I don’t know if I’d be a responsible dog owner.”

Bucky doubts anyone would be as responsible as Steve in any situation ever, but he keeps his mouth shut. He understands Steve’s reasoning, which is actually the same obstacle Bucky is faced with whenever he thinks about adopting a pet. He tells Steve as much, both commiserating about their shitty schedules.

The conversation then moves on to the TV shows they’re watching and their favorite movies, and Bucky is pleasantly surprised to find out how well their tastes match. Steve is pretty well versed in today’s pop culture for someone who’s been living in the future for a little over two years, much to Bucky’s delight.

“Sam and Nat helped a lot with that,” Steve sighs, long-suffering but obviously fond. “So did Tony. Although I still like to pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about when he calls me Mr. Freeze.”

Bucky knows Steve is an Avenger, and he’s met Sam before, but it still throws him to hear the names _Nat_ and _Tony_ casually mentioned in conversation. That’s the _Black Widow_ and _Iron Man_ Steve is talking about, and a little part of Bucky can’t help but freak out a little.

Not that he shows it. Instead, he just says, “He doesn’t.”

Steve nods, lips turned down. “He does.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s better than Nat’s old people jokes, though.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky repeats, delighted that one of the deadliest women on the planet tells _old people jokes_. “How many times has she called you a fossil?”

“Too many,” Steve deadpans, resting his cheek in one hand.

“If my opinion counts any,” Bucky starts, licking his lips, “you look really good for a 90-year-old.”

Steve grins, slow and genuine, the tips of his ears turning red. “It counts.”

Bucky laughs, ducking his head, but before he can say anything Steve’s phone rings. His stomach sinks and Steve’s entire demeanor changes, going from relaxed and like he’s having fun to tense and worried.

It’s like he’s a different person than he was a second ago.

And that’s when it hits Bucky that he kind of is. Because Bucky isn’t looking at Steve Rogers anymore, but Captain America.

“Rogers,” Steve barks, jaw clenched and brows furrowed as he listens to whoever’s on the other side. His eyes flicker to Bucky’s, expression darkening. “Understood.”

“You have to go,” Bucky says, shoulders slumping a little.

Steve nods, clearly unhappy, already taking out his wallet and grabbing a few bills. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky waves him off, because he understands. “Go save the world.”

Steve stares at him, seeming at war with himself. “Can we do this again?”

“Text me when you can,” Bucky answers, offering Steve a smile. “We’ll work something out.”

“Okay.” Steve reaches out a hand, grabbing Bucky’s own and squeezing it. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Be careful.” Bucky squeezes back once before letting go.

“Cross my heart,” Steve says, making yet another vow before he leaves.

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of him until Steve disappears into the crowd.

 

**

 

“Why so glum?” his Ma asks him when Bucky shows up for Sunday breakfast, grabbing his face between her hands and squishing his cheeks together.

That used to make him laugh when he was a kid, but sadly it doesn’t work now.

“Nothin’,” Bucky slurs between squished lips, frowning a little.

Winifred sighs, placing a small kiss on Bucky’s forehead. “He’ll be okay.”

Bucky squacks. There’s nothing else he can call the kind of sound he makes, eyes going round in surprise and body tensing. “What?”

“Your soulmate,” his Ma repeats, a slight glint in her eyes. “He will be fine.”

Bucky blinks, grabbing his Ma’s wrists and bringing her hands down, before tangling their fingers together. “How do you know?”

“I did some scrying,” his Ma admits, and then leans in and whispers, “Don’t tell your father.”

Bucky sighs, deep and long-suffering. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”

It’s an ongoing fight, Bucky’s mother’s taste for the future and his dad’s dislike for it. While Winifred wants to know when things will happen, will fall to scrying and cards and tea leaves, George wants nothing to do with it.

Bucky gets it.

Why would he, when that is his curse?

“You’re a good boy,” his Ma says, hooking her arm around Bucky’s and leading him further into the house. “Now you should stop worrying.”

“Easier said than done,” Bucky mutters, and a second later regrets his words.

“Then do the dishes,” Winifred orders. “That’ll certainly take your mind off of things.”

Bucky presses his lips together, knowing better than to argue. It grows incredibly difficult when Becca comes down, though, her teenage face brightening when she sees Bucky elbow deep into water.

“Loser,” Becca says, dipping her fingers into the water and flicking some at Bucky.

“Brat,” Bucky snaps back, considering for a second grabbing Becca by the waist and dumping her into the sink.

“Rebecca,” Winifred sing-songs, in that way of hers it means something bad is about to happen.

Becca freezes, hiding her arms behind her back. “Yes, Ma?”

“I remember asking you to clean your room. Why don’t you go do that while I get breakfast ready?”

Bucky smiles to himself as he listens to Becca stomp around the house, rinsing the last bowl before putting it to dry. He loves his sister to death, but at seventeen, Becca can be a pain in the ass.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad,” Bucky greets him, drying his hands before he pulls his dad in for a hug.

“Try not to worry too much,” George whispers, clapping Bucky on the back.

Bucky pulls back, looking from his dad to his mom and back again. “How do you guys even know I’m worried about something?”

“Because,” his Ma pipes up, pouring the last of the pancake batter into the pan, “we’ve known you all of your life.”

“What your mother means is,” his dad starts, side-eyeing Winifred, although his expression is fond, “you got here and didn’t try to eat one of the banana muffins we got for Becca. That means something is on your mind.”

Bucky slumps, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s nothing.”

His parents make identical sounds of disbelief, but his dad is the one who says, “If something bad was going to happen, you’d know.”

Bucky blinks up at him, heart twisting at the sad look on his dad’s face, making his wrinkles more pronounced. He wonders what his dad has seen in his fifty-odd years of life, but keeps his questions to himself.

“Okay.” Bucky nods, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Thank you.”

His dad claps him on the shoulder, hand warm and heavy and comforting. His mother twirls around, going on her tiptoes so she can kiss his cheek.

“What happened?” Becca asks from the door, frowning.

“Your brother needs a hug,” Winifred says, much to Bucky’s embarrassment.

“I’m fi—”

Bucky doesn’t get to finish his sentence, suddenly finding himself with an armful of skinny teenager, Becca’s forehead bumping against his chin. Bucky hisses but hugs her back, relaxing at the feeling of having his family close to him, of knowing he is loved and cared for and has their support.

At least until Becca says, “You smell like wet dog,” because she might love him with all of her heart, but she’s still his little sister.

So Bucky laughs, burying his face against her hair and taking a deep breath. “Better than smelling like dragon’s breath.”

“I swear, it’s like you’re five-year-olds,” Winifred sighs, separating them by pushing a plate stacked with pancakes at Bucky and the milk jug at Becca.

“I miss being five,” Bucky sighs, and then throws over his shoulder as he rushes out of the kitchen, “I was an only child!”

“ _Bucky_!” Becca screeches, making Bucky cackle.

As an apology, though, he lets Becca have the last two pancakes at breakfast, kicking her lightly under the table while they make faces at each other. Their parents just look at one another and shake their heads, but Bucky doesn’t miss the smiles they try to hide behind their coffee mugs.

It settles him, spending some time with his family. It takes his mind off of things, and while he still worries about Steve’s safety, it is not to the point where it messes up his entire day. He manages to laugh and enjoy breakfast with his parents and sister and, later, to complete all of his errands before he goes back home, settling on the couch and catching up on season two of _The Americans_.

Bucky is in the middle of the season finale when his phone vibrates on the coffee table, startling him a little. He pauses the episode, sitting up so he can grab his phone, heart beating faster when he sees it’s a new text from Steve.

 

**Steve** **< 3 [10:10PM]:**

_So… when can I see you again?_

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of water.

It runs down his body and flows to the ground beneath him, sticking to his skin and hair, making it difficult for him to see. It weighs him down, his clothes heavy and damp, constricting his movements. The cold of it spreads through his bones, turns his fingers numb, and chills his very soul.

Bucky dreams of water and then wakes up really needing to pee.

 

**

 

Bucky agrees to meet Steve for a late lunch that following Wednesday, before he needs to head off to work. He smiles up at the blue skies, even as he pulls his blue leather jacket tighter around himself as he walks, wind cold on his face, happy that he pulled his hair up in a bun before leaving the house.

The place Steve invited him to is one Bucky’s never been to before, but Bucky has no trouble finding the small diner across the street from the VA’s office, its red neon sign flickering on and off even in the light of day.

Bucky takes a deep breath as he pushes the door open, a little bell above it announcing his presence. He’s instantly hit with the smell of home and fried food, mouth watering, and he already knows he’ll be coming back to this place.

Steve has taken his customary place at a table with a clear view of the diner, so Bucky is quick to find him. This time, though, Steve is staring down at his hands folded on top of the table, cap lowered, and when he smiles at Bucky it’s a little forced, more like a grimace than the ray of sunshine Bucky is used to.

That puts Bucky on guard, his lips pressing tight as he looks at Steve, dropping his bag on the floor between his feet. He hesitates for a split second before asking, “What’s wrong?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes sad. “It’s nothing. How are you doing?”

Bucky frowns, poking the back of Steve’s hand. “I’m worried. You don’t look like you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Steve lies, and at Bucky’s raised eyebrow and pointed look he clenches his jaw. “Really, Bucky. Quit worrying.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, pal.” Bucky leans forward, trying to meet Steve’s eyes. “It’s kind of my thing knowing when my friends are upset and doing what I can to help them.”

“I don’t need help,” Steve grumbles, a scowl smearing his features.

“So you are upset,” Bucky says, letting himself sound a little smug. It only makes Steve’s scowl more pronounced at being called on his shit, but at least they’re getting somewhere. “C’mon,” Bucky murmurs. “You were there for me when I needed it. So let me be here for you now.”

Steve stares at Bucky for a few seconds, about ten different expressions playing across his face. Bucky just looks back, unwavering, drawing circles on the table with his index finger as he waits.

“You can’t really help,” Steve finally tells him, curling more into himself. “It’s something I need to learn to deal with on my own.”

“I can still listen,” Bucky replies. “And I can still support you while you learn to deal with whatever it is you’re having a hard time with.”

Bucky has his suspicions, based on what he knows of Steve’s history. But Steve himself hasn’t shared much about his struggles or the state of his mental health in this new century, so Bucky will keep his mouth shut and his guesses to himself.

Steve licks his lips, glancing down at his hands again. Bucky notices the scabs covering Steve’s knuckles, a flash of worry running through him, especially when Steve starts picking at them, short nails scratching at his skin.

It makes Bucky reach out before he thinks about it, hands covering Steve’s own and stilling them. Steve’s skin is hot to the touch, just like it always is, the warmth of it making Bucky’s palms tingle. He pushes those feelings aside, focusing instead of squeezing Steve’s hands in his, giving him something else to concentrate on.

Steve’s mouth parts, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He stares down at their hands for a few seconds, not doing anything, and just when Bucky is about to pull away and apologize, he squeezes back. It’s a gentle pressure against Bucky’s hold, almost as if Steve doesn’t know his own strength.

“I was at the VA before coming here,” Steve starts, confirming one of Bucky’s thoughts. “Things can get kind of rough.”

“That sounds tough.”

Steve snorts, no humor in the sound. “It is. I mean, it’s good, but... PTSD group brings up a lot of stuff sometimes.”

Bucky tightens his hold on Steve’s hands, thumb rubbing circles against Steve’s busted knuckles. He’s not surprised at knowing Steve has PTSD, being very aware of the kind of horrors Steve must have lived through, both in the war and after he woke up.

It still makes his heart twist painfully in his chest, though. He knows that is not something easy to live with, and right in front of him he sees how much it can weigh on Steve.

“Like it did today?”

“Kind of,” Steve answers, clearing his throat. He lifts his head up, eyes going to one of the diner windows, gaze far away and sad. “Today wasn’t the worst.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Bucky asks, feeling Steve’s skin go a touch warmer at the question.

Steve looks back at him, eyes now soft and fond, though a bit of sadness still lingers. “You’re already doing it,” he says, giving Bucky a half smile.

Bucky smiles back, just a quirk of his lips. “Thanks for trusting me with this.”

“That’s what friends do, right?” Steve says, so low Bucky almost doesn’t hear him. His expression turns serious once again, smile gone. “You know, it hasn’t really been easy… adjusting, making friends,” he admits, eyes falling once again to their hands, “but it’s easy with you.”

Bucky is glad Steve isn’t looking at him. There is no way he can mask the sappy look on his face at hearing those words, his cheeks flushing as warmth spreads over his body.

“It’s easy with you, too,” Bucky tells him, and he’s proud of himself when his voice doesn’t waver.

Steve smiles at him, this shy small smile that he only seems to wear when he is around Bucky. They just look at each other, hands entwined, trapped in their own little world.

At least until the waitress finally stops by their table, the crystal charms on her wrists clinking together as she pushes her glasses up her nose. “Your auras say you are ready to order,” she says, voice smooth and sweet.

Bucky blinks at her, and then turns back to Steve, eyebrows up. It’s not unusual for some people to be able to see auras, but they’re often not as forward about it as — Bucky looks at her nametag — Maura seems to be. Figures.

“We are.” Steve nods at her, obviously already used to this routine. “But we need a few minutes to look at the menu.”

“That is fine.” Maura clicks her pen against her notepad, crystal charms jiggling. “I will wait.”

Two minutes later Maura is walking off to ring their order, while Bucky stares at Steve with a curious expression, fighting back a smile.

“She’s interesting,” Bucky comments, hands feeling oddly empty now that he’s not touching Steve.

“I like her.” Steve shrugs. “She always gives me an extra apple pie slice when I’m having a really bad day.”

“Really?” Bucky asks, already making a mental note to give Maura a very generous tip.

“She said it makes my aura look not as wobbly,” Steve answers, and then frowns at himself, “whatever that means.”

Bucky laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, happy when it makes Steve smile again.

Maura comes back with their orders a few minutes later, the food hot and smelling so good Bucky has to stop himself from falling mouth first into the plate. Steve seems to notice, smirking a little and looking awfully pleased with himself as Maura sets down their drinks.

“Enjoy.”

Bucky thinks he’s died and gone to heaven at the first taste of his dish, the flavors bursting on his tongue and making his eyes roll to the back of his head. He lets out an embarrassing moan, a shiver running through him as he chews.

“What the fuck,” is all he can say, opening his eyes and staring down at his plate in awe.

“Their cook is fae,” Steve explains, and when Bucky looks up at him is surprised to see Steve’s gaze trained on his mouth. “The food isn’t dangerous to us, but it still has an effect.”

“No shit,” Bucky mutters, licking his lips and enjoying the way it makes Steve’s eyes darken. At the fae cafe Bucky frequents, the baker is a witch, so this is his first time tasting something made by a fae. “And no wonder apple pie makes your aura sing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, breaking the staring contest he was having with Bucky’s lips. “Shuddup and eat.”

Bucky does just that, humming in delight every time he takes another bite, and fighting back a smile when the sounds he makes bring Steve’s gaze back to his lips. Maura brings them pies for dessert once they finish the main dish, and Bucky can’t help but smile at the way Steve’s eyes widen in appreciation. He understands that look as soon as he eats some of the pie, the sweetness of it seeping to his soul.

“This is my new favorite place,” Bucky says around a mouthful of pie, only to have Steve grin back at him.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“I _love_ it,” Bucky corrects him, and then quietly adds, “and it’s good that this place helps you feel better.”

Steve sucks in a breath, giving Bucky a slow nod. “You kinda have something to do with that, too.”

“Just kinda?” Bucky teases, the words warming his heart.

Especially when Steve says, “A tiny bit.”

Bucky smiles, nudging Steve’s foot under the table with his own. Before he can say anything, though, a flash from outside catches his attention, and a second later it starts to rain, heavy and hard, the drops of water hitting the diner’s window.

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, freezing in place as that familiar little rush of _aha!_ makes itself known. “Well, fuck that.”

“Buck?”

Bucky turns to Steve, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, looking from Bucky to the rain outside and back again. “You don’t look it.”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky tells him, waving a hand in front of him.

“Bucky,” Steve starts, leaning forward and resting his hands over Bucky on top of the table, a mirror of their position from earlier. “Don’t make me throw your words back at you.”

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, biting down on his bottom lip. He doesn’t really know how to start this conversation, never has, even though he’s been dealing with it for as long as he’s been alive.

Because how does someone tell a person they just met, someone they want to keep in their life, that they're cursed?

Well, apparently, when that person is one guy named James Buchanan Barnes, he just blurts out, “I’m cursed.”

 

**

 

In all his years, Bucky’s had to tell maybe five different people about his family curse.

The entirety of the Barnes clan already knows, as they are afflicted themselves. His mom’s coven is aware, although they don't care much since they can neither break the curse nor make use of George’s glimpses of the future.

Claire found out after Bucky’s first shift at the hospital ended without disaster, when they went to _Josie’s_ and got drunk on cheap margaritas, Bucky’s life story stumbling out of him the looser his tongue got. Her reaction was just to sigh and pour them another glass.

It was much different than how Bucky’s first girlfriend reacted: getting angry and dumping her milkshake all over Bucky’s lap, asking him how he could ever joke about something like that. His first boyfriend wasn't much better, asking him a million questions about it and taking notes, going as far as asking if he could use Bucky as an example on his final project about warlock magic and its danger to humans.

So to say Bucky's dealt with the most varied kind of responses to his family curse is an understatement.

But that still doesn't mean he's ready for Steve's.

 

**

 

Bucky wants to take the words back as soon as they leave his mouth.

They're not gentle, the delivery harsh and abrupt, and they seem to make this entire thing more of a big deal than it actually is. As much as the curse is a pain in Bucky's ass sometimes, especially when he can't interpret his glimpses in the correct way, it is not all bad.

It did warn him about Steve, after all.

Steve, who goes from looking concerned to like he's about to kill someone, eyes glowing with righteous anger and muscles tight.

“You're _what?_ ” Steve asks, voice low and rough and sending shivers down Bucky's spine. “Who was it? What kind of curse? Are you—”

“Oh my god, Steve, no,” Bucky starts, shaking his head. “I'm okay. It's nothing anyone did to me.”

Steve frowns, still looking pissed. “But you said…”

“It's a family curse,” Bucky explains, which doesn't seem to help, as Steve goes from looking upset to looking horrified and then right back like he's about to get up and go punch someone. “Fuck, I'm bad at this. I'm explaining it all wrong.”

“Are you in danger?” Steve asks, grip tight in Bucky’s hands, keeping him in place.

“I'm not, I promise,” Bucky tells him, tangling their fingers together. “This is one of those supernatural gifts kind of situations.”

Steve frowns, but listens intently as Bucky talks to him about his ancestor, the warlock gift, the sight. The anger recedes the more Bucky keeps the words flowing, hold gentling on Bucky’s hands, although he doesn't let go.

“So you can see the future,” Steve muses, a little bit of awe bleeding into his tone.

“Only a little bit of it,” Bucky shrugs, cheeks flushing under Steve's gaze, “and only if it affects me personally. Today I dreamed about water, but I didn't figure out until now it meant it was going to rain and I'd get soaked.”

He doesn't tell still he thought it meant he just needed to go to the bathroom really bad. Some things are better kept to himself.

“Does that happen a lot?” Steve wonders, head tilted to the side. “You not figuring out your visions?”

“Sometimes,” Bucky is a little embarrassed to admit. He should be able to know _exactly_ what each one of them means,  but he's been known to interpret them wrong some of the time.

Okay, most of the time.

With the one noticeable exception of the glimpse he had of Steve, of his _soulmate._

“Don't divination classes help with that?”

Bucky suppresses a groan. “They should, yeah. But it's not a flawless art.”

Bucky even tried taking one once, when he was a teenager, after a particularly scarring experience involving one of his visions. He still remembers the panic surging through him when he woke up to glimpses of a rotten banana when he was sixteen, convinced it meant he caught an STD after having unprotected sex for the first time, and that the dream was warning him about his dick falling off.

Imagine his surprise, and absolute embarrassment, when it only meant that he'd forgotten a banana in his bag, which eventually got crushed and ended up all over his school books.

“There's a story there,” Steve says, lips tipping up at the corners.

He doesn't tell Steve about the banana. That is something he'll take to his grave. Unless his parents decide to reminisce and end up spilling the beans when Steve is around.

Instead, he offers another reason why the divination classes were such a bust for him.

“There is,” Bucky sighs, stomach churning a little at the unpleasant memories. “Let's just say my teacher was too busy looking at his _students_ instead of teaching us how to look at our dreams.”

Steve scowls, a flash of anger coming back. “Did he do anything to—”

“Not to me,” Bucky assures him. “He did try to get fresh with one of the other girls after class, but she tore him a new asshole. Literally.”

“Wow,” Steve says, impressed.

“Yeah.” Bucky laughs a little, without much humor in it. “So no more divination classes for me after that.”

Bucky does think of getting back to it sometimes, maybe buying some books and trying to teach himself the language of dreams. He knows it'd help him make fewer mistakes, but he's not sure he's ready — or has any time — for that kind of commitment right now.

“I'm sorry you had a bad experience with it,” Steve murmurs, thumb rubbing circles on the inside of Bucky's wrist.

“Thanks,” Bucky answers, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “So now you know my secret.”

At least one of them, Bucky thinks to himself. Not that he has a lot of secrets to keep.

“Thanks for trusting me with it,” Steve says, sounding so earnest and grateful that Bucky's heart tugs in his chest.

“I just wish I had figured it out sooner.” Bucky looks out the window, the rain still falling. “It won't be fun going to work all wet.”

Steve straightens up at that, a considering look washing over his face. “I might be able to help with that.”

 

**

 

“Holy cow,” Bucky says when the car pulls up outside, black and sleek and way too expensive.

“Yeah.” Steve nods, dropping a few bills on the table and getting up. “Being friends with Tony has its perks.”

“I'll say,” Bucky mutters, grabbing his bag so they can leave.

The driver meets them at the door, greeting Steve by name. He’s holding a black umbrella open, sheltering them from the rain until they climb inside of the car and close the door. Steve gives him the address to the hospital and settles back in the passenger seat, thigh pressed against Bucky’s.

“Thanks for this,” Bucky says, bumping Steve with his elbow.

“Just glad I could help.” Steve smiles at him, bumping back. “So what are you doing this week?”

“Work,” Bucky sighs, pouting a little. “More work. And then—”

“Let me guess. More work?”

“You got it.”

“So no Halloween parties for you?” Steve asks, biting down on his bottom lip.

Bucky’s stomach flips, the feeling quickly followed by disappointment. “Nope. Halloween is one of the worst nights we have at the hospital. They need all hands on deck.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, scratching at the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. “It’s just that Tony is throwing a Halloween party, and I thought…”

“I would if I could.”

“But you can’t.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I definitely can’t. Something always goes wrong on Halloween night.”

“That sounds ominous.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Did you have a vision?”

Bucky snorts. “No, but I have experience. Years of working during Halloween taught me that anything that can go wrong, _will_ go wrong. And in the most spectacularly fucked up way possible.”

Steve nods slowly, brows furrowed. “I guess it’s not that much different from when I was a kid.”

“Oh?”

“Halloween was an excuse to fuck shit up, as you young people say,” Steve says, so casually and deadpan that it makes Bucky bark out a laugh.

“That sounds about right. I don’t know if it’s gotten any worse since then, but it’s definitely bad.”

“I don’t know…” Steve trails off, clearing his throat. “That first year back here, I wasn’t… I didn’t really pay attention to what other people were doing.”

There’s sadness in Steve’s voice, his eyes far away and unfocused.

“Did someone visit you?” Bucky asks gently, breath catching in his throat at the utter devastation and grief on Steve’s face when he nods.

All Bucky can do is slide his hand into Steve’s, offering him something to hold on to. Steve entwines their fingers, palm rough and hot to the touch.

They don’t say another word for the rest of the ride.

 

**

 

**Steve** **< 3 [12:23AM]:**

_Sorry if I was kind of a wet blanket today_

**Steve** **< 3 [12:23AM]:**

_And thank you for listening_

**Steve** **< 3 [12:23AM]:**

_It meant a lot_

 

**Bucky [3:56AM]:**

_Always._

 

**

 

Bucky wakes up on Halloween with a sense of impending doom lingering in the air. It makes him want to snuggle up in bed with his mountain of pillows and blankets, close his eyes, and forget the entire world.

But, as his alarm clock reminds him, he can't.

So Bucky gets up, already dreading having to spend the day at the hospital, dealing with curses and spells gone wrong, ghost related injuries, and people with upset stomachs from eating too much candy. It is as if Halloween night is an excuse for people to do things they've never considered before, as if the veil between worlds thinning gives them an excuse to be idiots.

Needless to say, Bucky isn't a big fan of Halloween and the chaos it brings to his life.

Especially when he goes to brush his teeth, mind still slow with sleep, and misses the ghost standing behind him in the bathroom until they whisper, right against Bucky’s ear, “Boo.”

 

**

 

It is not news that, on Halloween night, the veil that separates this world from the others isn't as strong. Magic runs free, more potent, and with it the lines blur, making it possible for otherworldly beings to stop by and visit.

For humans, that means spirits.

It is usual for ghosts of their loved ones to stop by and chat, see how things are going, learn the new family gossip and offer some of their own. It is a way for people to stay connected with their relatives and remind themselves of where they are from, to see again someone they miss dearly and have a few hours with them.

The problem with ghosts, though, is that they never warn people they are coming.

 

**

 

Bucky yells and throws his toothbrush at the mirror, turning around and tripping on his own feet, the momentary lack of balance sending him falling backwards. He grabs at his shower curtain to try and stop his fall, eyes widening with horror when he hears it rip.

“Fuck!” Bucky yells as he screws his eyes shut, legs hitting the side of his bathtub and sending him crashing down, arm flailing and taking a few bottles of shampoo and the citrusy soap he loves so much down with him.

A laugh echoes through the tiled walls, booming and oh-so-familiar to Bucky.

“Ah, every year,” the voice says between chuckles. “One would think you'd know better by now, boy.”

One would think so, but sadly that is not true.

“What the fuck, Pops?” Bucky asks, finally opening his eyes to be faced with the ghost of his great-grandfather, caught in that weird sense of déjà-vu he gets whenever Bucky sees him.

James Buchanan Barnes senior and Bucky share more in common than only their names.

They look so alike it's a bit unsettling, both with sharp, defined jaws and cheekbones, pouty lips, blue eyes and the same fluffy brown hair, although Pops’ is shorter and slicked back with pomade. Even their chins are the same, with a little dimple on it, but Bucky’s is hidden behind two days worth of stubble.

“Language, Bucky,” James says, trying to sound stern, but failing when he ends up smiling.

“Whatever,” Bucky grumbles, squirming around until he can get out of the tub, ending up on his knees on his bathroom floor. He does a mental check of himself: aside from the muffled pain on his ass, he’s okay, which means no trip to the hospital for ghost related injuries. “Did you have to do that?”

“No,” James admits, shrugging one shoulder. “But I gotta get my fun where I can.”

Bucky snorts, putting the bottles back in their places and thanking fuck one of them didn’t blow up. That’s not a mess Bucky wants to clean up again. His toothbrush, on the other hand, somehow ended up in the toilet, floating in the water.

Bucky scrunches his face up in disgust, grabbing one of the disposable gloves he keeps under the sink and slipping them on. “I hate you,” Bucky mumbles under his breath as he rescues his toothbrush, only to throw it in the trash along with the gloves.

“You look forward to seein’ me every year,” James sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he floats a little bit over the floor. “I’m the best part of your day.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, knowing better than to argue.

Truth is, he likes the visits from his great-grandfather every other year or so. When he was a kid, he loved listening to old war stories and what life was like back when James was alive, at the beginning of the twentieth century. When he was a teenager, he loved getting tips from James about how to talk to girls and, on one memorable occasion, about how to talk to boys.

Bucky holds that memory to heart, remembering how nervous his 15-year-old self was to finally admit out loud something he’d been keeping a secret about himself for so long. James’ kind smile and even kinder words made Bucky glad he chose his Pops to be the first person to know he was bisexual.

“Keep telling yourself that, pal,” Bucky answers, side-eyeing him.

“I will.” James grins, moving so he’s hovering by the sink while Bucky grabs another toothbrush, restarting his morning routine. “So, I heard you’ve met your soulmate.”

Bucky bites back a groan. “Who told you?”

James snorts. “Who _didn’t_? First words out of Becca’s mouth when I came to see ‘em. Your Ma looked like she wanted to cry she was so happy it finally happened.”

Bucky shakes his head, but he can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his face. “We’ve only just met.”

“Almost a _month_ ago. Don’t try to trick me, kid. Becca told me everythin’.”

“Becca needs to know to keep her mouth shut.”

“She’s your little sister,” James points out. “‘S what they do.”

Bucky sighs, scratching at his jaw. He trusts James, but ghosts are known to be gossips, and he’s not sure he’s ready for people to know his soulmate is Steve.

Clearly seeing the hesitation and doubt across his face, James smiles a little, expression softening. “You go do what you hafta, kid,” he says, reaching out a hand and letting it go through Bucky’s shoulder, his ghostly version of a shoulder clap. “We can talk once you’re done.”

Bucky swallows, nodding his head in assent and seeing as James flickers out and disappears. Bucky brushes his teeth and steps into a quick shower, taking his time shaving and drying his hair, all the while thinking if he should come clean about Steve’s identity.

He trusts James, truth be told. His Pops hasn’t let him down once, and he’s always kept the secrets Bucky wished him to keep. He’s also never judged Bucky for anything, saying he’s too old and too dead to care about what Bucky does, as long as it doesn’t hurt him or others.

James doesn’t come back until Bucky is halfway through eating breakfast, toast crumbs covering the kitchen table and jam smearing on the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything, just looks at Bucky, as if waiting for Bucky to make his decision.

“You have to promise not to say anything to anyone,” Bucky starts, taking a sip of his orange juice.

“Cross my heart,” James says, crossing an X over his heart, even though vows don’t work for the dead.

Bucky knows he means it, though, and that makes him relax.

“It’s not because I’m ashamed of him,” Bucky says, running a hand through his hair, “but because he’s kind of… well, famous.”

James perks up. “Really?”

“Really,” Bucky says dryly. “That’s why you can’t rush off to tell the others. He’s kind of a big deal, and we’re not really dating, so we haven’t had a conversation about how we want to deal with all of this. We don’t need my family sticking their noses into our business on top of all of that, while we’re trying to figure things out. He also doesn't know he's my soulmate. Not yet.”

Truth be told, Bucky has no idea how he is going to bring that up to Steve. He figures he can worry about that later, after he is sure they have something real between them. And after he's asked his dad for advice.

James nods, understanding. “We Barneses are kind of a handful.”

“We really are. So, no gossiping.”

“I got it, kid,” James says, face serious. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. This is the first time he’s actually going to say this out loud, to someone else, instead of repeating the words inside his head. It’s fitting that James is the one who gets to hear it first.

“My soulmate is Captain America.”

There’s a second of silence and then James bursts out laughing, his entire body shaking with it. Bucky just stares, blinking, waiting for him to be done. It figures, after building it up so much in his head, of course the first reaction he’d get from someone at knowing Steve is his soulmate would be something like this.

It takes James a few moments, but he soon notices Bucky is not laughing with him. He abruptly cuts off, eyes bugging out and mouth snapping shut.

“Oh shit, you’re not kiddin’.”

Bucky shakes his head, offering him a humorless smile. “Nope.”

“Damn, kid.” James sobers up, although he still looks a little astonished. “Captain America, huh?”

Bucky knows his Pops never met Steve, with him being stationed in the Pacific during the war, but everyone is aware of exactly who he is. Or at least they are aware of the title he holds.

“His name is Steve,” Bucky says, words sounding right in his mouth. “And he’s actually kind of an asshole.”

James grins, delighted. “Tell me more.”

 

**

 

After James is gone, leaving Bucky with a Happy Halloween and good luck wishes, as well as a promise the he won’t say anything about Steve, Bucky breathes easier. He hadn’t realized until now that a little bit of the weight he’s been carrying ever since meeting Steve disappears, making him feel lighter.

It makes sense, though, this was — and still is — a huge secret for him to keep, and secrets always take their toll.

 

**

 

The hospital, as predicted, is in complete chaos when Bucky arrives.

He tries to ignore the screaming, the crying, the harried nurses and doctors running from one place to the other, but without much success. He knows he'll have to deal with all of it soon, but as he hurries and gets ready for his shift, he takes a few seconds to breathe in and appreciate the silence.

Just a few seconds to get his game face on, and then Bucky is pushing past the doors to the locker room, ready to start his day.

And what a fucking day it is.

From spells backfiring and leaving people unconscious and wounded, to misplaced curses of various kinds and different degrees of awful — all because people think it is okay to try more complicated magic than they should when the veil thins —, to people coming in for minor injuries because a ghost relative of theirs surprised them at a bad time. There are also the regular fight injuries and stabbings, the upset stomachs from too much candy, and the drunk and disorderly.

It all leaves Bucky exhausted and grumpy, and he curses himself for not going to the fae cafe and grabbing an espresso with a shot of good luck. He entertains the idea of leaving to get one during his lunch break, but as the hours pass and the ER stays full, it becomes evident he'll be lucky if he even _gets_ more than a five minute break between things.

At least one that doesn't involve him having to change out of his scrubs because someone who was cursed started throwing up slugs and they got all over Bucky's clothes. Because yeah, that happened.

Classic Halloween shift.

“Do things seem worse this year or am I just imagining it?” Claire asks as they go pick up more charts, her hair a mess and dark circles under her eyes.

“All years are the worst,” Bucky answers, retying his hair up in a ponytail. “I fucking hate this. It's like people never learn not to mess with shit they don't understand.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at him. “This is because of the slug guy, isn't it?”

“They're so fucking gross, Claire,” Bucky whines, shuddering. “And one almost got in my hair!”

“Poor baby,” Claire says, patting him on the head.

“Barnes! Temple! Get moving.”

Claire sighs while Bucky runs a hand over his face.

“Good luck,” Bucky tells her, already walking away.

“We’ll need it!”

And so they do, at least for a couple of hours more. Around six in the afternoon things slow down a fraction, which everyone knows is the calm before the storm. It is just starting to get dark, which means kids will go trick or treating soon, and whoever thinks they know how to work with magic will conjure spells and cast curses, thinking the darkness and the moon will help.

They won't, by the way.

Bucky has a witch for a mother, and while spells and curses are stronger during Halloween, people’s proficiency when it comes to magic doesn't change. If someone can't cast a proper protective spell any other day of the year, they won't be able to do it on Halloween.

Not that anyone believes Bucky when he tells them as much, when they end up at the hospital. People like to think they're capable of doing great things, even when they are not.

All of that only adds to Bucky's grumpiness, and he's ready to go to one of the empty call rooms and scream on a pillow when he _finally_ gets a 15 minute break. Not that he gets to his destination, oh no.

As soon as he turns the hallway corner, five steps away from the room, he hears someone call, “Bucky?”

Bucky stops in his tracks, anger vanishing as he twirls around. “Steve?”

Steve smiles at him, cheeks pink, and scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, hi?”

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asks, taking a step closer.

Bucky’s eyes fall to the tight black skeleton shirt Steve is wearing under his jacket, lips curving at the corners. At least one of them doesn't hate Halloween with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

Steve's smile disappears, brows furrowed. “Oh, you didn't get my texts.”

Bucky blinks, shaking his head. “I don't have my phone with me. Is everything okay?”

“Everything is swell,” Steve drawls out, making Bucky snort. “I just thought I'd stop by? I remember you said something about Halloween being awful, so I guess… I just wanted to know if you're okay. Oh, and bring you lunch.” Steve raises a bag, and Bucky is happy to see it it's from his favorite sandwich place. “It’s a meatball sandwich.”

“Oh my god, come here,” Bucky groans, grabbing Steve by the wrist and pulling into the call room. Steve trips a little but follows along, letting Bucky push him down into one of the bunk beds. “Gimme it.”

Steve grins, handing Bucky the bag. Bucky practically tears through it, stomach rumbling and mouth watering when he catches a whiff of the delicious meatball smell coming from the sandwich.

“My love, it's been so long,” Bucky says to the sandwich, right before he takes a huge bite, sauce running down his chin. He can't bring himself to care, eyes closing in ecstasy as he _finally_ gives in to his hunger and starts eating. He doesn't open his eyes until he feels something pressed to his chin, seeing Steve holding a napkin and cleaning him up.

“You're kind of a mess, Barnes,” Steve comments, giving Bucky a pointed look as he wipes at the sauce.

“When you've had the day I had, you can complain,” Bucky says around a mouthful of meatball sub, beyond caring about how gross he looks, “until then, shut your trap.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve teases, saluting.

“Punk,” Bucky grumbles, bumping his knee against Steve's.

“Has it really been that bad?” Steve asks, frowning a little in concern.

“Someone threw up slugs on me today,” Bucky answers, feeling smug when Steve’s expression twists in disgust, “so yeah.”

“I'm sorry.”

Bucky takes another bite of the food, patting Steve on the knee. “Not your fault. And what about you? Halloween treating you well?”

Steve gets this soft sad smile on his face as he ducks his head, nodding slowly. “It's been okay.”

Bucky licks his lips, grabbing water bottle inside the bag and taking it a sip. He remembers his conversation with Steve a few days before, and while Steve doesn't look as upset as he did when Bucky asked him if anyone visited him on his first Halloween back, he still doesn't look happy.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Bucky asks, voice low and gentle.

Steve swallows, shredding the napkin he's holding as he thinks. Bucky stays quiet, letting Steve have the time he needs, and contents himself in eating his meatballs.

“The Commandos stopped by,” Steve starts, sounding small and sad, but his lips still curve into a smile. “It went a lot better than the first time they showed up after I came back.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes out, stomach churning.

It makes sense, the grief in Steve's gaze when they talked about it. Bucky can't imagine what it must have been like for him, to wake up in a new world where everyone he knew and loved was either dead or dying, and then have the ghosts of his friends show up on Halloween night to say hello.

Especially when to Steve, they had been alive just a few months before.

“It was hard,” Steve says, voice cracking, “really hard, the first time. But it's better now. They told me about their families, and we talked a little about… about the war. It was good, seeing them again.”

“I'm glad you had that,” Bucky whispers, wrapping an arm around Steve's broad shoulders.

Steve slumps a little against Bucky’s side. “Me too. Dum Dum even asked me if I found myself a nice lady or fella to settle down with, or if I was still running around getting my ass into trouble.”

Bucky laughs a little between them. “Definitely the second one.”

Steve turns his head, forehead resting against Bucky's temple. “I don't know,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over Bucky's cheek. “There might be someone.”

Bucky sucks in a breath, suddenly aware of how close they're sitting. He can see the sparks of green in Steve's eyes, the little freckles covering the bridge of his nose, the pink shine of his lips as Steve leans in—

“Barnes, we need— Oh.”

Steve and Bucky jump back as if burned, both looking up at Claire with wide eyes. Bucky can feel his heart beating in his chest and the blood rushing to his cheeks, his meatball sub gripped right in one hand.

“Yes?” Bucky asks, voice higher than usual. “What do you need?”

Claire looks between Bucky and Steve, eyebrows almost to her hairline, and then shakes her head. “I don't want to know,” she says, and then turns to Bucky. “Break’s over. We need you in the ER.”

There's something in her tone that makes Bucky go into high alert, stomach unsettled now for an entirely different reason.

“What is it?”

Claire bites down on her lower lip. “You better come see.”

 

**

 

Halloween night is not only for spells and curses and potions. It is not only for ghosts who stop by to visit, and people who get to say hello to them. It is not only for candy, treats, and tricks.

Halloween night, to some stupid fucking idiots, is for summonings.

 

**

 

There’s a devil’s trap sketched on the floor at the back of the ER waiting room. It is done in chalk, the lines uneven but connected, and it is only now visible because people are stepping away from it.

“Great,” Bucky grumbles, scowling as he lowers himself to the floor, trying not to be seen. “Just what we needed.”

The guy standing in the middle of the trap seems to be in his mid-sixties, hair greying and slicked back away from his face in an attempt to cover the bald spot at the top of his head. He’s sweating, pale skin flushed red and shiny, staining his tailored black suit. His eyes are wide and wild, scanning the people around the waiting room, while he mumbles under his breath.

Bucky wonders for a brief second why he didn’t have a glimpse of this. It’s not something small and incapable of causing harm like the slugs. Demon summonings always require a blood sacrifice, sometimes of an entire _group of people_ instead of just the prick of a needle to your index finger. The best Bucky can guess is that he won’t die or suffer permanent injuries, but as the guy waves a knife around, that doesn’t mean much.

“Security guards?” Bucky asks Claire, crawling on the floor, trying to get closer to the doors without catching the guy’s attention.

“Spread out,” Claire replies, mouth tight. “Some are busy handling a shifter fight, others trying to contain the spiders that someone set free in the children’s yard.”

“He came prepared,” Bucky concludes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Amazing. Like today wasn’t bad enough.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Steve says, and only then does Bucky realize he and Claire were followed.

Steve’s jaw is clenched, hands curled into fists as he crouches, his eyes glowing bright. His gaze is focused on the old man through the glances through the open door to the waiting room, like Steve is about to make him burst into flames at any second.

“No, you will not,” Bucky hisses, poking Steve in the chest. “No setting fire to the hospital. Or anyone inside of it.”

“I wasn’t—” Steve starts arguing, eyes dimming a little and going from angry to confused.

“What you’re gonna do is help us get these people out, so no one is around when that guy summons whoever it is he’s trying to summon,” Bucky says, already moving to the nearest exist. “Our priority is getting them to safety. When no one is around to be considered collateral damage, _then_ Claire and I can go in and try to talk to this guy. Unless the guards or the police get here first, then they can do it.”

“You and Claire?” Steve asks, gaping. “You’re _nurses_.”

Bucky doesn’t know what his face is doing, but he can see Claire staring at Steve straight in the eye, looking all kinds of unimpressed. Whatever Steve sees on their faces makes him startle a little, mouth opening and closing a few times.

“We’ve done this before,” Bucky tells him, every part of him wishing that wasn’t true. “It’s not the first time someone tried to do this on Halloween night. Everyone here is trained to deal with situations like this.”

“What the fuck.”

“At least there aren’t any ninjas this time around,” Claire comments, glancing at the waiting room. “We should get moving.”

“You get him talking?” Bucky asks, ready to move.

“Yeah.” Claire nods. “I’ll try to focus his attention on the left side of the room, you get people out through the opposite exit. Kamala and Billy are there, they’ll help.”

“Thank fuck,” Bucky breathes out, and then turns to Steve. “If I see one spark coming from you, I’ll knock you on your ass.”

Steve is still staring at him like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, but he nods. With that, they leave Claire and move, quickly and staying low so they won’t be seen.

Bucky sees Claire stand up and step inside the waiting room, arms raised and palms facing forward, drawing the guy’s attention to her. That makes it easier for him and Steve to go where they need to, a breath of relief escaping him when he reaches Kamala and Billy.

“How are you doing?”

“Ready when you are,” Billy says, purple sparks coming from his fingers. “I can cast the illusion and you and Kamala can—” Billy stops, eyes widening and mouth dropping open. “Is that _Captain America_?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder at Steve, who has the grace to blush and raise his hand in a small wave.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bucky hisses, glaring when Kamala snickers. “We need to go save people.”

“Right,” Billy says, eyes still round. It isn’t until Kamala pokes him in the ribs that he snaps out of it, gaze moving away from Steve. “Let me know when to cast. I can hold the illusion for about ten minutes when I have to replicate this amount of people, so you’re going to have to be fast.”

“Got it,” Bucky says. “On three?”

“One,”  Kamala says, ready to run.

Steve is at her side, eyes glowing again. “Two.”

“Three,” Bucky whispers under his breath.

A second later, a shimmery wall stands between the people in the waiting room and the devil’s trap. A perfect mirror of everyone inside.

 

**

 

Getting people out isn’t as difficult as Bucky thought it would be. Despite the threat of everyone dying a bloody death, people don’t run away screaming when the wall is in place. That might have something to do with the way Steve identifies himself as Captain Rogers and asks everyone to keep quiet, but still.

It helps, and with Bucky, Kamala, and Steve working to get everyone out while Billy works his magic, soon enough the waiting room is empty, save for Claire and the old man who wants to do the summoning.

“What now?” Steve asks once the last person is gone, eyes glued to Claire.

“We still have a couple of minutes,” Billy says, forehead beading with sweat.

“We need to break the circle.” Kamala points to the devil’s trap. “And get that knife away from him.”

“Okay.” Bucky breathes out, mentally preparing himself. “Kamala, you can use your badge to break one of the lines. Steve, you’re faster than any of us, so you get to Claire and make sure she’s safe.”

“But that means you—” Steve starts, not that Bucky listens to him.

Because a second later the illusion breaks as Billy slumps to the floor, and the old guy swirls around, face red with rage. Bucky doesn’t think twice before he’s on his feet and tackling the man to the floor, just as the man starts chanting, his hand wrapped tightly around the man’s wrist as he tried to get him to give up the knife.

Bucky can feel the magic rising around him, making his ears pop and making it difficult to get air in his lungs. The pressure of it is almost unbearable, as if crushing Bucky to the floor, and he can't help the scream that crawls itself out of his throat. The sounds around him are muffled, but he can make out Steve's voice, frantic and strained as he shouts.

And then, just as quickly as it all started, the magic flickers and disappears, like a balloon being popped and deflating.

“It's broken!” Kamala yells, badge in hand and chalk on her fingers.

The circle isn't connected anymore, and with it, the magic is void. The energy used for the summon whispers into the air, and then it is set free into the world again, without causing anyone harm.

Bucky pins the old man to the floor, who dropped the knife as soon as the casting was undone, and turns him on his belly, hands behind his back. Bucky is panting with effort, ears ringing and muscles aching, feeling like he got hit by a truck.

At least he's still alive, he thinks, just as the doors burst open and police officers swarm inside.

 

**

 

“He’s dying,” Claire tells him once Bucky is done getting checked out by a doctor, her arms crossed over her chest and face grim. “He thought he could make a deal: sacrifice all of those lives in exchange for more of his.”

“Asshole,” Bucky mutters, rolling his shoulders.

His muscles are stiff and he has a low grade headache, but aside from that, he's perfectly okay. He'll probably be sent home for the night, though, along with Billy, as the hospital doesn't want to risk having them keel over in the middle of the ER in case something else happens.

“Pretty much,” Claire sighs, and then rests her hand on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “You did good today, Barnes.”

Bucky snorts, patting her hand. “Right back at you.”

“And don't think I forgot about catching you and Captain America in one of the call rooms.”

Bucky flushes, cheeks heating up. “Listen—”

“I honestly don't want to know,” Claire interrupts him. “I already have too many superheroes in my life. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

Bucky nods, and with a last tap on his shoulder, Claire walks away.

 

**

 

“I'm sorry about all of this,” Bucky says, he and Steve walking shoulder to shoulder through the hospital hallways so Bucky can go change and grab his things. “Halloween usually sucks, but I didn't think it was going to be this shitty.”

“Buck, you don't have to apologize.” Steve shakes his head at him. “None of it was your fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Bucky shrugs, letting out a slow breath. “I didn't even get to finish my meatballs.”

Steve laughs a little, bumping his shoulder against Bucky's. “Go change and I'll buy you another one.”

“Really?” Bucky perks up, mouth already watering at the mere thought.

“Yes, now go.”

Bucky gets ready to leave in record time, feeling a little more relaxed once he's back in his jeans and soft grey sweater. He swings his bag over his shoulder, hair now up in a bun on top of his head. Steve is waiting for him outside the locker room, hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” Bucky says when Steve looks up at him, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hi,” Steve answers, throat working as he swallows, eyes trailing up and down Bucky's body.

Bucky shivers, even as he feels the air around them get hot. “I didn't say it before, but thank you  for bringing me lunch.”

“Anytime,” Steve says, eyes fond.

“And I'm sorry if I was rude to you before,” Bucky clears his throat, shifting in place. “But we are taught to deal with these kind of things, and I didn't want—”

“It's okay,” Steve stops him, one hand coming up to rest on Bucky's arm. “I get it. I know I could've escalated the situation. I'm not mad.”

“Still. And you were a great help too, with making sure everyone remained calm.”

“It was the least I could do,” Steve says, taking a step closer, “when you and Claire were risking your lives.”

“We weren't…” Bucky trails off, feeling a little breathless as Steve moves his hand up Bucky’s arm, slow and sure.

“You were,” Steve murmurs, eyes dark. “And you were great out there, Buck.”

“I just did what needed to be done.”

“Don't sell yourself short,” Steve tells him, hand now cupping Bucky's cheek, palm rough and almost too hot. “You were… you are something else, Bucky.”

And with those words between them, Steve leans in and kisses him.

 

**

 

Bucky is pretty sure he's dead.

He's pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven, and that Steve's mouth on his is his reward.

The kiss is chaste and sweet at first, a barely there press of lips, just to test the waters. But then Steve pulls back slowly, nuzzling his nose against Bucky's, and stares at him through half lidded eyes, his cheeks flushed.

All Bucky can do is wrap his arms around Steve's waist and pull him closer, chin tilted up so he can capture Steve’s lips in another kiss. Steve moans against his mouth, hands sure on Bucky’s face, and then moving to tangle through his hair, messing up Bucky's bun.

It is a different kind of kiss entirely, just as sweet as the first one, but deep and slow as they taste each other, taking their time. It sends a shiver down Bucky's spine, and he presses even closer, hands sliding under Steve's stupid skeleton shirt, touching skin.

The air is hot and heavy around them as they kiss, and Steve is steady and sure against Bucky, skin and lips so warm Bucky never wants to let go. He needs to, though, to catch his breath, lips tingling when they break apart, red and swollen from Steve's kisses.

“Wow,” Bucky whispers, grinning when it makes Steve laugh.

“I'll say.” Steve places a kiss to the dimple in Bucky’s chin, fingers busy tucking Bucky's hair behind his ears. “I messed up your bun.”

“I don't care,” Bucky says, way too giddy to care about his hair right now. Steve just _kissed_ him, and he's petting Bucky's hair, and Bucky is about to explode he's so fucking happy. “Go on a date with me.”

Steve frowns a little, untying Bucky's hair so he can card his fingers through it, nails occasionally scratching at Bucky's scalp. “I thought I was going to? You know, the meatballs?”

Bucky blinks, heart soaring as he registers the meaning of Steve's words. They have all been dates, to Steve. Every time they met to go somewhere, every outing, all dates.

Not maybe-dates.

_Dates_.

And then all Bucky can do is smile, says, “Yes,” and pull Steve into another kiss.

 


	2. November

**Steve** <3 [6:20AM]:

_Sorry I have to cancel :(((_

**Steve** <3 [6:20AM]:

_I got called out again but I should be back in a few days_

**Steve** <3 [6:21AM]:

_Then we can go on another date :D_

 

Bucky reads over Steve’s texts from a few days ago for the tenth time, unable to stop himself from smiling. He’s been on cloud nine since Halloween, an entire week of feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest he’s so happy.

Never mind that he technically hasn’t seen Steve since they went out for meatballs after the mess at the hospital, both of them walking hand in hand to Bucky’s favorite sandwich place, and trading kisses any chance they had. It was the best first — or third? — date Bucky’s ever been on, even though both of them were tired and Bucky felt like he was two seconds from curling up on the floor and sleeping for fifty years.

Bucky can still feel the memory of Steve’s lips on his when Steve walked him back to his apartment, kissing him in front of his building. Short little sweet kisses that made Bucky’s stomach flip and his heart fill with affection.

“You’re doing it again,” Claire comments, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

Bucky glances up at her from lacing his boots, refusing to blush. “What?”

“Smiling like an idiot,” Claire clarifies, even though she doesn’t need to. It’s not the first time she’s called Bucky on it this week. “It’s scaring the patients.”

“Shuddup.” Bucky rolls his eyes, lips twitching when Claire smiles.

“Is it the Captain?” Claire murmurs as she grabs her bag, eyes glinting.

“I thought you didn’t want to know.”

Claire shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t. But I like making fun of you.”

Bucky snorts, resting a hand on his chest. “The love. I feel so much of it.”

Claire punches him lightly in the chest, smiling. “You’re coming with us for drinks tonight?”

“If I’m invited.”

Claire flicks him in the ear. “Of course you are. Unless you have a date with a certain tall, blond—”

“I don’t,” Bucky interrupts her, sticking his tongue out at her. “He’s working.”

Claire’s smile slips a little, expression sobering. “Everything okay?”

Bucky nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I try not to worry.”

“Trust me,” Claire sighs, throwing an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, “that never really works.”

“Your daredevil?” Bucky asks, curious despite himself. He and Claire have never really talked about it, but the knowledge has always been there.

“Yup.” Claire nods. “Between you and me, he’s a disaster.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, pushing the hospital doors open as they step outside, the air cold and crisp. “I can only imagine.”

“It’s part of him, though,” Claire continues, “this desire to save people, to help them. It makes him who he is.”

Bucky nods, throat tight. From what he’s been able to figure out, it is the same for Steve. If he can do something to help someone, he will, no questions asked.

“It’s kind of a pain in the ass, though,” Bucky tries to joke, relieved when Claire snorts.

“Just wait until he comes to you, half dead, wanting you to patch him up.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, horrified at the prospect of finding Steve in that situation. He can’t imagine what it must have been like for Claire, and he has a feeling she doesn’t really want to talk about it. So Bucky pats her on the back, leading her to their usual bar.

“C’mon, let’s go get drunk.”

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of the rising sun.

He dreams of it breaking through the night’s darkness, coloring the sky red and orange and blue. He can feel the heat of it on his skin, warm and familiar, wrapping itself around him.

Bucky dreams of the rising sun, and smiles.

 

**

 

Bucky wakes up feeling cozy and toasty warm, the lingering images and impressions of his little glimpse still with him. He’s wrapped in his two blankets, burritoed in softness, sleep trying to cling to him.

It’s his first day off after three 12 hour shifts, and despite knowing he can spend it in bed all day, he has things to take care of. He has the dirty laundry he’s been ignoring for at least two weeks, the lack of food in his fridge that means he has to go grocery shopping, the dust bunnies covering his shelves and asking to be cleaned up. Bucky still takes a few minutes to bask in the certainty that he does not need to get up for work, rubbing his cheek against his pillow and snuggling into bed.

There’s nothing he enjoys more than his first day off, when he can finally spend a few extra minutes in bed before getting up to do what he needs to do. There’s also the added bonus of taking naps whenever he feels like it, flopping down on his couch with the TV on in a nest of blankets, or going back to his bed.

Bucky smacks his lips together, wiggling his toes in his fuzzy socks, and dozes on and off. He stays in bed until his stomach starts rumbling, the calling for food definitely something that gets him up. He still grumbles a bit, though, wrapping one of the blankets around his shoulders as he pads to the kitchen, hair a bird’s nest and dried drool on his face.

“This is sad,” Bucky mumbles when he opens the fridge to find only a carton of milk and two eggs. He grabs the food, closing the door and grabbing the marker he has stuck on the fridge, writing down his grocery list if he wants to survive for the next few days.

Breakfast is kind of gross, but for someone who’s had to heat up water and put ketchup in it and call it tomato soup once, this isn’t the end of the world. Still, after Bucky is done and the dishes are clean, he decides that grocery shopping will be the first thing on his list of errands for the day, if only so he can buy stuff to snack on while he cleans the apartment and does his laundry.

Bucky checks his phone before going to take a shower, barely glancing at the texts he has from Becca and his Ma and Claire. There’s nothing from Steve, not yet, and Bucky tries not to let disappointment rule his day.

He mostly succeeds, focusing instead of getting stuff done and making his home look presentable. It’s boring work, but at the end it makes Bucky feel good about himself, to have everything organized, his clothes clean, and looking pretty again.

“You did good today,” Bucky tells himself, yawning as he folds the last of his laundry and puts it away. Then he turns to his bed, spreads his arms, and flops down face first on the mattress, bouncing on it a few times. “Time to rest.”

Bucky is just about to fall asleep again when his phone vibrates on the nightstand, the sound startling him a little. He squirms around until he can reach it, heart skipping a beat when he grabs it.

The little rush of _aha!_ Bucky feels when he sees Steve’s name on the screen makes him laugh. Of course Steve coming back would be like the sun rising again, warmth spreading through every inch of Bucky’s body.

 

**Steve** <3 [5:55PM]:

_Just got in safe and sound!_

**Steve** <3 [5:55PM]:

_What do you say about us going on that date tomorrow night?_

 

Bucky grins, butterflies in his stomach as he types out his reply.

 

**Bucky [5:56PM]:**

_I feel very good about it_

 

He hits send, seeing a second later that Steve is typing something back.

 

**Steve** <3 [5:56PM]:

_I’ll pick you up at 8_

**Steve** <3 [5:56PM]:

_And how do you feel about Japanese food?_

 

**Bucky [5:57PM]:**

_Sushi is my one true love_

 

**Steve** <3 [5:57PM]:

_lol_

 

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. He knows he’s smiling like an idiot while staring at his phone, but he can’t help the fondness he feels at reading Steve’s texts. _Lol_ , really? A second later another text arrives, this time making Bucky’s smile turn into something softer, butterflies in his stomach.

 

**Steve** <3 [5:57PM]:

_It’s a date then ;)_

 

**

 

Bucky stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed as he considers his reflection.

His hair looks good, soft and shining, falling down almost to his shoulders and framing his face. He has a bit of stubble going on, which only makes his jaw look sharper and his lips more pink and plump than they already are.

He’s wearing a black fitted button down, the fabric stretched across his chest, with the top two buttons undone and revealing the hollow of his throat. The shirt is paired with dark wash skinny jeans that hug his thighs and fall low on his waist, the red band of his underwear showing if he raises his arms.

Which Bucky does, nodding in approval when the movement makes his shirt ride up, also revealing a sliver of pale skin and the trail of hair that leads down from his navel to… other places. Bucky does a little twirl, looking over his shoulder at the mirror and smirking at the way his pants frame his ass, making it look round and firm.

“You did good, Barnes,” Bucky tells him reflection, bending down to grab his boots and jacket, and finishes getting dressed.

Steve should be here at any moment, and Bucky doesn’t want to leave him waiting. He’s too excited about it — about their _date_ — that he has butterflies flipping in his stomach. He doesn’t want to waste a second of time spent with Steve tonight, not after everything.

And not after how long it took Bucky to realize that they’ve been _going on dates all along_.

He has a lot of time to make up for, starting tonight.

Bucky still jumps a little when the doorbell rings, glancing at himself in the mirror one last time before he leaves. He still looks hot as fuck, in his opinion, and hopefully Steve will agree.

Not that Bucky has a chance to ask or watch as Steve takes in the sight of him. As soon as he steps outside and finds Steve, Bucky’s mind goes blank.

Because there Steve is, in jeans as tight as the ones Bucky is wearing, topped with a dark blue button down that showcases _exactly_ how chiseled his chest and arms are, and he’s _leaning against a motorcycle_.

Bucky whimpers, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tries his best to keep his knees from buckling. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of Steve from where he’s standing, and it takes all of his strength not to run up to him and climb him like a very tall, very muscled tree.

And it’s all made worse when Steve _grins_ at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, his cheeks flushed pink — from the cold or something else, Bucky doesn’t care.

“Hey,” Steve says, voice low and a little rough, eyes trailing down Bucky’s body.

“Hi,” Bucky answers, forcing himself to move. He stops short of Steve, feeling the delicious warmth that seems to emanate from him at all times. “You’re beautiful.”

Bucky almost winces at himself, not meaning to be this honest — or sappy. But what he says makes Steve duck his head and his grin turn into a shy smile, eyes glinting as he looks up at Bucky from under his lashes.

“Thank you,” Steve says softly. “You’re beautiful too.”

Bucky lets out a laugh that’s embarrassingly close to a giggle, feeling his face heat up. He and Steve stare at each other for a few seconds before they lean in slowly, both still smiling. The kiss they share is sweet and chaste, just a brush of lips, but it sends sparks down Bucky’s spine just the same.

“Hi,” Bucky says again, one hand coming up to cup Steve’s cheek, thumb tracing the sharp cut of his jaw.

“Hey.” Steve nuzzles his hand, pressing a quick kiss to his palm. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought the bike.”

“Mind?” Bucky grins, looking over Steve’s shoulder at it. “I _love_ it. I’ve always wanted to ride one, but Ma was against it.”

Steve tenses a little, brows furrowing. “She’s not going to curse me when she finds out I took you for a ride, is she?”

Bucky’s breath catches in his lungs at the words _‘take you for a ride_ ’, mind immediately supplying him with a thousand different images of him and Steve naked in bed, enjoying themselves. He swallows hard, trying to push those thoughts aside.

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky says, sounding a little strangled. “I’ll protect you.”

Steve snorts, resting their foreheads together. “My hero.”

“Shut up.” Bucky melts against him for a second, before he presses a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth and pulls back. “C’mon, show me what this baby can do.”

Steve hands him the spare helmet, and Bucky has a moment to mourn the loss of his perfectly styled hair before he puts it on, swinging a leg over the bike and climbing on. He smiles to himself when that means he’s pressed tightly to Steve’s back, Steve cradled between his thighs, the heat of him against Bucky’s front.

Bucky’s smile only deepens when Steve reaches behind him, grabbing Bucky by the wrists and bringing Bucky’s arms around his waist. Bucky laughs, snuggling impossibly closer and holding on tight, his hands resting on Steve’s hard stomach.

A second later, and they’re off, Bucky’s startled yelp followed by laughter drowned out by the sounds of the motorcycle.

It’s exhilarating, riding a motorcycle, just like Bucky thought it would be. Both because he’s doing it with Steve and pressed so close to him, but also because of the speed and the feeling of freedom it brings him. Bucky knows he’s going to ask Steve to take him out on the bike again as soon as they’re off, excitement rushing through him.

It’s totally worth the weak knees Bucky gets once they arrive at the restaurant, swaying in place a little when he climbs off the bike. Steve is beside him in an instant, arm sure and strong around Bucky’s waist, keeping him up.

“Careful,” Steve says, taking the helmet from Bucky.

“That was fucking amazing,” Bucky answers, beaming. He doesn’t even care about how stupid his hair must look, not when Steve smiles back at him, wide and bright. “We’re gonna have to do it again.”

“That can be arranged,” Steve promises, bringing a hand up and running it through Bucky’s hair. “As many times as you want.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“I doubt it,” Steve murmurs, kissing Bucky’s temple. “You’re hungry?”

“Starving,” Bucky admits, pressing a hand to his stomach. “I believe I was promised sushi.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Your one true love, yes, I remember.”

“Of course you do.” Bucky smiles at Steve, smacking a loud kiss to his cheek before turning around. “So take me to it, Stevie.”

“Stevie?” Steve asks, taking Bucky’s hand and leading him down the sidewalk, his touch warm and sure.

“Sorry, was that— Should I not?” Bucky grimaces a little, but relaxes when Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine. Can’t say anyone’s ever called me that before, though.”

“Then I’ll be the first,” Bucky replies, squeezing Steve’s hand in his.

Steve glances at him, expression soft and fond. “I think you’ll be a lot of firsts,” he murmurs, pecking Bucky on the lips before leading Bucky inside.

The place is small and cozy and loud, much like the one they went to the night they first met. Steve expertly leads him through the tables with a hand on the small of his back, and even goes as far as pulling Bucky’s chair out for him, fingers tugging at Bucky’s hair once before he takes his seat.

“A gentleman, huh?” Bucky teases, knocking his feet against Steve’s under the table.

“My Ma raised me right,” Steve sniffs, trying to hide the way the tips of his ears are flushing.

“She musta been a saint to put up with your sass.”

Steve smiles one of his sad smiles, resting his chin on one hand. “Where do you think I got it from?”

Bucky laughs, heart clenching in his chest. “I wish I could’ve met her,” he says. He has no doubt Sarah Rogers was a hell of a woman, to raise someone like Steve.

“Maybe next Halloween,” Steve offers, eyes lowering to the table, tone hesitant and unsure. “If she… and if…”

Bucky licks his lips, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He grabs Steve’s hand in his, tangling their fingers together. “Next Halloween sounds great. And if she doesn’t show up, there’s always next time.”

A part of Bucky can’t believe he’s putting this out there when this is only their _first_ official date, but knowing what he knows, it is not really a stretch to think of himself and Steve together for that long.

He can admit to himself that the more time he spends with Steve, the more they talk and text and get to know each other, the more Bucky likes him. He can admit it will be as easy as breathing, falling in love with Steve Rogers.

And Bucky hopes Steve feels the same way about him.

Especially after Steve finds out the secret he's keeping — that they are soulmates, meant for one another; that they can have something wonderful and beautiful together, if they choose to.

“Next time,” Steve says, and that promise lays between them.

 

**

 

“This is so good, what the fuck,” Bucky says around a mouthful of karaage chicken, already picking up another one and dipping it in sauce. The meat is tender and almost dissolving in his mouth, and Bucky can’t get enough of it.

For as much as he loves Japanese food, he’s all kinds of disappointed with himself for not knowing about this place sooner.

Steve is too busy stuffing salmon gunkan into his mouth, cheeks puffing out as he chews, but he still manages a nod and makes a few agreeable sounds. Bucky isn’t ashamed to say he’s charmed by it, even as a little bit of seaweed comes out of Steve’s mouth and he has to suck it back in again.

Disgusting, but adorable.

That’s when Bucky knows how gone he is on Steve. He’s surprisingly okay with it.

Especially when Steve picks up a shrimp nigiri and waves it in front of Bucky’s face, saying, “Try this,” and sticking it in Bucky’s mouth when he opens it to reply.

Bucky moans at the taste, wanting to weep a little at how good it is. “This is my new favorite place in the entire world.”

“Not your bed?” Steve asks, grinning as he eats some more of his gunkan.

Bucky blinks. “Okay, my second favorite place.”

“Thought so,” Steve answers, looking smug as hell.

Bucky falls a little bit harder. “How did you even find out about it?”

“About the bed thing or this place?”

“This place,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose. “I’d rather not be reminded of the embarrassing shit I do when I’m half asleep.”

“Noted.” Steve nods, drinking a little bit of sake to wash the food down. “And it was from Bruce. Dr. Banner? Food is his lesser known passion.”

“That’s cool,” Bucky says, a little floored at knowing Bruce Banner — the _Hulk_ — is a foodie. “Thank him for me, please.”

“I think he’s heard enough thanks from me, at this point.” Steve sighs, and at Bucky’s interested look, he adds, “Sushi is a new thing for me, and the first time I ate it was because of Bruce.”

“This century new?”

“Yeah. I kind of got a little obsessed with it after the first time I tried it.”

Bucky’s grin is slow coming, but takes over his face. “What kind of obsessed? Like ‘breakfast-lunch-dinner’ obsessed?”

“Maybe,” Steve drawls out, making Bucky laugh.

He’s been through that before. Granted, he was five and his obsession was with chicken nuggets, but he understands where Steve is coming from. He tells Steve as much, liking the way it makes Steve laugh.

“So, aside from sushi, what’s another favorite thing about this century?” Bucky asks, stealing a california roll from Steve and eating it.

Steve side-eyes him at that, but doesn’t retaliate. “Another one?” he asks, tilting his head as he thinks. “I don’t know… I guess you’re pretty nice.”

Bucky isn’t proud of the way he fumbles with his hashi at that, dropping another roll on the table instead of in his mouth. Steve just grins at him, awfully pleased with himself, as Bucky blushes and tries to ignore the affection that spreads through him, making him warm.

“Shuddup,” he mumbles, ducking his head.

“You wouldn’t want me to lie, would you?” Steve looks at him, eyes big and blue and innocent.

Bucky groans, hiding his face behind his hands, cheeks on fire. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” Steve teases, which only makes it worse.

“Your face is cute,” Bucky snaps back, and then frowns at himself.

Steve just laughs, resting his chin on his hand and batting his lashes. “Thank you, I know.”

Bucky throws a roll at Steve, who, in an impressive show of skill, catches it in his open mouth, chewing happily.

“Show off,” Bucky grumbles, but doesn’t pull back when Steve grabs his hand, placing a kiss to his knuckles. “Sap,” he sighs, pressing his thumb to Steve’s plump bottom lip.

“You like it,” Steve says, kissing Bucky’s finger before pulling back.

“Eeehh,” Bucky answers, laughing when Steve’s expression goes from soft to offended. “You’re okay, I guess.”

“Damn right.”

“What other things are good? You know, aside from the obvious.”

Things have changed a lot since the beginning of the century, and while the world isn’t perfect by a long shot, a lot of things aren’t as horrible as they used to be.

“Movies,” Steve tells him, a twinkle in his eyes. “Definitely movies. There are just _so many_ of them, telling all kinds of different stories. And the animations! Buck, you have no idea. They’re incredible!”

Bucky listens with a besotted smile as Steve passionately talks about animated movies, from old Disney classics to digital animation to special effects. It’s not something he knows a lot about, aside from being able to tell when something is good or not, but he doesn’t mind listening to it, not when Steve looks so excited talking about it.

They spend the rest of the date like that, conversation flowing as they eat and play footsie under the table. It is, once again, one of the best dates Bucky’s been on, not only because of the food, but because of Steve.

Bucky is feeling pleasantly full when they leave, his arm hooked around Steve’s as they step outside. He shamelessly leans closer, snuggling up to Steve’s side, basking in the warmth of him against the chilly wind.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulder, pulling him close. “What do you say we go for a walk?”

Bucky grins at him. “Don’t want to end our date just yet, huh?”

Steve turns a little pink, shaking his head. “Not really.”

As Bucky tilts his head up, hand coming up to rest on the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him in for a sweet kiss, he has to admit that he doesn’t either.

 

**

 

They walk through the crowded streets of New York, hand in hand, smiling and laughing to themselves. The night is a little cold, not that it matters much to Bucky when he has a firestarter for a date.

Steve hasn’t stopped smiling since they left the restaurant, and he hasn’t stopped keeping Bucky close either, taking him by the hand or throwing an arm around his shoulders, always touching, always making sure Bucky is right there beside him. Bucky doesn’t mind, he loves it even, and returns the casual affection with touches of his own.

Bucky does notice Steve isn’t wearing his usual disguise of a cap and sunglasses, making himself more recognizable. He doesn’t know where Steve stands on making their… _thing_ public, despite being out as bisexual. He knows someone will for sure realize who Steve is, and with the way they’re pretty much all over each other, it will be easy for them to connect the dots.

There’s also the added problem of Bucky’s family not knowing who his soulmate is. He has no doubts he’ll get a lot of shit from everyone if they end up finding out _Steve_ is the love of his life through some tabloid or news channel.

“You okay?”

Bucky looks up at Steve, unaware of how tense those thoughts made him until Steve’s voice snaps him out of it. He forces himself to relax, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He’s not sure this is a conversation they should have now, especially when they’re out in the middle of the street.

“Bucky.” Steve stops, glancing around once before directing Bucky to an alley between two buildings, creating a little safe space for them away from the crowds, that smells a lot like piss and garbage. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“You’re not wearing a cap,” Bucky blurts out, aware that he’s not making much sense.

Steve doesn’t seem to have a problem understanding him, though. “I know. I didn’t want to hide when I was with you.”

Bucky blinks, heart twisting. “You did all the other times, though.”

“That was before we kissed,” Steve answers, cheeks tinged red. “I wasn’t sure before, if you really… but then you kissed me, so.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes out, arms coming around Steve’s broad shoulders. “Of course I did.”

“I know that _now_ ,” Steve huffs, securing his arms around Bucky’s waist under his jacket. “Tonight, I didn’t want you to think I was hiding, or that I was ashamed about what we’re doing.”

“I don’t think that, and I know you’re not,” Bucky assures him, fingers playing with the soft hairs at Steve’s nape. “It’ll be a really big thing, though, if people recognize you and see us together.”

Steve freezes under Bucky’s touch, panic spreading across his face. “Shit, Bucky, I’m so sorry,” he rushes, appalled.

“Wha—”

“I didn’t even think,” Steve shakes his head, letting go of Bucky and taking two steps backward, “if you’d be okay with that. I just assumed you’d be okay with— I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Bucky says, stomach churning at the devastated look on Steve’s face. “Come back here.”

Steve continues shaking his head, hands curled into fists. “I’m so—”

“Stevie,” Bucky says, closing the distance between them himself. He cups Steve’s face between his hands, shivering at how warm Steve feels. “Look at me. I need you to look at me and _listen_. Are you listening?”

“Bucky—”

Bucky squishes Steve’s cheeks together, cutting him off. It makes Steve frown, and Bucky has to bite down on his bottom lip not to smile at how cute he looks. “Are you listening?”

Steve nods, panic still lingering on his gaze. “Yeah.”

“I am okay with people knowing about us,” Bucky tells him, putting as much certainty on his tone as he can. “I just didn’t know if you were, because of the whole superhero and spy thing. That’s why I asked.”

Steve wraps his palms around Bucky’s wrists, pulling them down. “I am okay with it. It… It might complicate things, me being who I am, but I don’t want to hide us, hide _you_. I’ve already had to hide this part of myself before, and I don’t— I _can’t_ do it again.”

“You won’t have to,” Bucky promises, brushing his lips against Steve’s. “So just to be clear, we’re both okay if someone ends up taking a pap shot of us and posting it on Twitter?”

“That’s rude and an invasion of privacy, but if it happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“No hiding.”

“No hiding,” Steve repeats, giving Bucky a kiss of his own.

“So I guess,” Bucky says against Steve’s lips, voice muffled, “this is a good time to admit I haven’t told my family about you yet.”

It’s true enough, Bucky supposes. They know Bucky’s met his soulmate and they know his first name, but they don’t know who he really is. Despite Becca and his Ma’s many attempts at getting the information out of him.

“Because you didn’t know if I was okay with the whole public thing?” Steve asks, eyes soft.

Bucky and his family are due for a conversation soon, seeing as Steve and Bucky don't want to hide their relationship. It's important for Bucky to have his family learn about Steve and the title he holds from him, and not from a paparazzo wanting to make some quick money.

Bucky nods. “I didn’t know if you wanted people to know, or if this thing between us was going anywhere. I told them your first name and how we met, but that was it. I also know my family would probably get kind of stuck more on you being _Captain America_ and not _Steve Rogers_. So, I didn’t say anything else.”

Steve slides his palms up and down Bucky’s back in a soothing gesture, leaving trails of heat behind. “Thanks for worrying about me,” he murmurs, rubbing their noses together. “And I’m okay with whatever you want to do. They’re your family, you know best how they’ll react.”

“I guess I could tell them a little more about you?” Bucky thinks out loud.

Bucky can also ask for advice. Now that he knows where he stands with Steve, he needs to tell him about his vision. He just has no idea how to do it.

Bucky’s parents are soulmates, and Bucky knows his dad has been in this very situation before. Bucky needs to talk to him, to ask his dad how he told his Ma about it, how to best approach the situation without fucking things up.

“Whatever you think is best,” Steve says, eyes soft.

“I think this is the way to go,” Bucky answers, talking more to himself than with Steve. “So they know you first as Steve and not as, you know.”

“A national icon,” Steve offers, with little humor.

“Yeah. But maybe hold out on the big reveal? I just… I don’t want them to treat you like you’re not _you_. Not that I think they will, but still.”

“We have to look at this from all angles, though,” Steve starts, frowning a little. “If there’s a chance people on the streets might recognize me and take our picture, your family will find out whether you tell them or not.”

“I hate technology,” Bucky grumbles, but then perks up. “Oh. Oh!”

Steve grins, excited. “Did you have an idea?”

“I had the _best_ idea,” Bucky corrects him. “We just need to find a witch.”

Steve blinks, and then hesitantly says, “I might know someone.”

 

**

 

“Why am I meeting you in a dark alley in the middle of the night while you’re supposed to be— Oh, I guess you’re still on your date.”

“Hi,” Bucky says, voice pitched high, as he raises his hand in a small wave. A little part of him is dying inside at looking like such an idiot, but another part of him can’t quite grasp the fact the the Scarlet Witch _knows_ he’s Steve’s date.

“Wanda, this is Bucky,” Steve introduces them, his hand at the small of Bucky’s back. “Bucky, this is Wanda. She’s a witch.”

Wanda smiles a little, amused. “I think he knows that.”

Bucky nods, at a loss for words. He can’t believe the _Scarlet Witch_ , one of the most powerful reality warpers in the world, is standing in front of him, but he guesses this is what life is like when you’re dating Steve Rogers.

“My Ma loves you,” Bucky blurts out, and cringes at himself. It’s true that his Ma is a huge fan of what Wanda can do, but he doesn’t need to advertise that. Not when it makes him sound like a huge dork.

Wanda just laughs, low but bright, her brown hair falling down her shoulders. “I’ll have to meet her sometime.”

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Bucky says, trying to hold on to the last bit of dignity he still has.

“We need your help,” Steve tells her, voice wavering like he’s trying not to laugh. Bucky elbows him in the ribs for that, blushing when Steve snickers and Wanda smiles again.

“What’s up?”

“Buck, tell her your idea,” Steve prompts, poking Bucky in the stomach.

Bucky bats his hand away, letting out a breath before he turns to Wanda. “I was thinking maybe we could have one of those protecting charms? You know, the ones that blur out any kind of picture people take of you without your consent.”

A lot of celebrities use them these days, with the onslaught of paparazzis and pictures people try to take of them when they’re out in the street. It’s a way of them protecting themselves and have a little bit of privacy in a world that wants to know everything about them and what they do.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “I could do that. Why didn’t you ever ask me for one before?”

The question is directed at Steve, who shrugs. “I didn’t know they were a thing.”

“You… Of course you didn’t,” Wanda sighs. “Do you need them right now?”

“That’d be good,” Steve answers, and then gazes at Bucky. “We want to continue our date without having to worry.”

Wanda grins, teeth showing. “Tony and Nat are going to be jealous I met Bucky first.”

“That was technically Sam,” Bucky tells her, “when I fixed his wing.”

“Still,” Wanda shrugs, “it’s a win.”

“Can we have the charms, please?” Steve asks, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Yes, I just need to have something of yours,” Wanda explains. “It can be anything you have on you now, or something you always wear.”

Bucky gives her the black hair band he keeps around his wrist, while Steve grabs his wallet and pulls out a picture. Bucky sneaks a glance at it before Wanda takes it, her red magic wrapping itself around it, and his lips curl up when he sees who is in the picture.

Steve notices him looking, cheeks turning red. “I think the Commandos will like knowing they’re making people’s lives hell while protecting me.”

They haven’t talked much about Steve’s old team, although Bucky knows how much they mean to Steve. The fact that he keeps a picture of them in his wallet, faded and worn, just proves it.

“Even if it means you’re with me?”

“Especially then,” Steve says, looking bashful. “I, uh, showed them a drawing I did of you when they stopped by to visit on Halloween. They were very,” he coughs, clearing his throat, “complimentary.”

Bucky barks out a laugh, snaking his arms around Steve’s waist, and waggles his eyebrows. “They thought I was hot, huh?”

“Shuddup,” Steve whines, hiding his face against in the crook between Bucky’s neck and shoulder.

Bucky takes that as a yes. “You drew me?” he asks in a softer tone, lips brushing the shell of Steve’s ear.

Steve lifts his head, worrying at his bottom lip. “Yeah, is that okay?”

“It is,” Bucky says, and then suggests, “Maybe I could pose for you sometime.”

“I’d like that.”

“Are you done with your moment?” Wanda asks, smirking when they turn to her, eyes wide. “Here,” she hands them back the hair tie and picture, “these should work.”

“Thanks, Wanda,” Steve says, giving her a hug.

“Any time.” Wanda pats him on the back, winking at Bucky over Steve’s shoulder. “Now go back to your date.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Bucky tells her, surprised when she comes up to him and kisses his cheek.

“You too, Bucky,” Wanda says, giving them a goodbye wave before disappearing around the corner.

“Are you ready to go back to our date?” Steve asks him, stopping in front of him, hands settling on Bucky’s hip.

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “It’d be a shame to say goodbye to this dirty alley.”

“C’mon,” Steve snorts, pecking Bucky on the lips before he leads them back to the street. “Let’s have fun.”

Safe in the knowledge that they are protected by Wanda’s charms, Bucky and Steve leave the alley and resume their walk, arms wrapped around each other. The worries Bucky had before have mostly disappeared, at least for the moment, and with it he finds himself enjoying things again, every once in a while pressing kisses to Steve’s jaw and cheek, just because he can.

The faint sound of music meets their ears as they walk, Steve and Bucky glancing at each other once before following it along. It is not unusual for street performers to give shows during the night, out in the open street, especially when it starts nearing the holidays.

“Oh,” Bucky says when they arrive at the edge of the crowd, arranged around a group of elves.

They’re in a circle, instruments in hand, long shiny hair styled in intricate braids. The melody they are playing is intoxicating, moving through the crowd and keeping them rooted in place, amazed. It’s a little bit of magic, but also skill that makes them such great musicians, and Steve and Bucky stop to listen, swaying a little in place in the rhythm of the song, their own little dance.

Above them, the street is lit up with tiny dots of light, moving in time with the song. Bucky glances up and sees they are little faeries hovering in the air, golden glitter falling from their wings as they flutter, making everything even more sparkly.

“That’s going to be a bitch to clean,” Bucky mutters without any heat, too mesmerized by the sight they make and the song that the elves play.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve whispers, hand tightening around Bucky’s hip as he turns so they’re facing each other. “And you look good with gold in your hair.”

Bucky laughs, resting his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “Hey, dance with me.”

Steve’s expression twists, everything in him screaming reluctance. “I would, but I don’t really know how.”

“What if I lead?”

“I don’t think that’ll help much.”

“Here.” Bucky takes Steve’s hands from his hips and settles them on his shoulders, his own coming around Steve’s waist, holding him close. “Just move with me.”

Bucky sways them from side to side, easy as anything. He rests his cheek against Steve’s, closing his eyes, memorizing everything about this moment and the feeling of Steve so close to him. There are couples around them dancing as well, while the rest of the crowd is glued to the elves and their song.

Steve’s fingers playing with his hair make him shiver and press close, chest to chest, his heart beating against Steve’s. They stay like that until the final notes of the song linger around them, the crowd bursting in applause, the elves standing and graciously receiving thanks.

Bucky pulls back a little, only so he can see Steve’s face, the tips of their noses bumping together. Steve is sporting a soft smile, the corners of his lips barely curled up, his eyes bright and liquid. He looks at Bucky like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and Bucky knows he’s answering in kind.

So right there, in the middle of the street, while everyone is distracted by the performers, Bucky lets himself be pulled into a kiss, sweet and slow, and for everyone to see.

 

**

 

**Steve** <3 [11:33PM]:

_I know I already told you this but I had a really great time tonight_

**Steve** <3 [11:33PM]:

_When can we do it again? :D_

 

**

 

“So,” Becca starts, popping an apple slice into her mouth, “how’s your soulmate?”

Bucky eyes her, actually impressed it took her almost until the end of breakfast to ask him something. He can see his mom perk up from the corner of his eye, leaning forward, while his dad ignores all of them and spreads some strawberry jam on his toast.

“He’s okay,” Bucky tells them, reminding himself of the decision he made when he and Steve went out on their date. “We went on our first date on Friday.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful!” Winifred grins, clasping her hands together under her chin. “Did you have fun?”

Bucky nods, biting back a smirk when he says, “Yeah, he took me out on his motorcycle.”

His Ma stops, smile freezing on her face. Beside her, his dad’s lips are twitching, but he quickly hides the reaction by taking a bite of his toast, jam coating his upper lip.

“I see,” his Ma says, leaning back against her chair, arms now crossed over her chest. “I hope you two were safe.”

“We were,” Bucky answers, as serious as he can. “Steve takes people’s safety very seriously. It’s his job.”

“Oh? Is he in law enforcement?”

Bucky blinks. “You could say that.”

“Is he a _spy_?” Becca whispers, eyes shining in interest.

Bucky waves for her to come closer, waiting until they’re almost nose to nose before he says, “That’s none of your business.”

“Bucky!” Becca yells, and then goes still, her eyes widening. “That wasn’t a no. Oh my god, your soulmate is totally a spy.”

“He’s not really a spy,” George says, giving Bucky a knowing look.

“Not really,” Bucky agrees, and he and his dad share a smile.

Bucky wonders for a brief second if his dad knows, or if he’s just making fun of them, but then he decides _he_ doesn’t want to know if his dad knows. It’s better for his peace of mind.

His Ma catches the exchange, eyes narrowing. “What do you know? George, tell me.”

“I know as much as you do, Freddie,” he says, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. “And that is that our son would rather keep this to himself for a little while longer.”

Winifred scoffs. “I don’t see why. We’re all wonderful people. I’m sure Steve would love to meet us.”

Bucky has to agree with his mom on that. Steve _would_ probably love to meet them, but Bucky wants to make sure they know they’re meeting _Steve_ and not Captain America.

“I’m sure he would, Ma,” Bucky sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just… This is kind of a big deal. I want to wait a little while and make sure we’re on the same page before I bring him over to be interrogated.”

His Ma gasps. “We would never.”

“I would,” Becca pipes up. “If he can’t handle me, he’s not good enough for you.”

Bucky snorts, smiling despite himself. He gets a hand on the back of Becca’s chair and drags her closer so he can hug her, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek when she tries to squirm away. “You’re awful but I love you.”

“Right back at you.” Becca grins, poking Bucky in the stomach to let her go.

“Alright,” his Ma says slowly. “We can wait to meet him.”

Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand, kissing the back of it. “Thank you, Ma.”

“Hush.” His Ma pats him on the cheek and then says, while flicking him on the nose, “A motorcycle, James? Really?”

 

**

 

“Hey, Dad?” Bucky asks, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

There is no denying he’s nervous. He knew this moment would come, especially after he had his glimpse of Steve.

George looks away from the TV, gaze finding Bucky’s own. “Son?”

“Can we talk?” Bucky asks, glancing over his shoulder at the kitchen, the muffled sounds of his Ma’s laughter and Becca’s voice coming through the door. “Privately.”

His dad smiles at him a little, turning off the TV and putting the remote down. “C’mon,” he says, slowly getting up from his chair.

Bucky follows his dad to his office, the scent of old books and leather filling his nose. It helps him relax some as he takes his seat in one of the comfy leather chairs, the cushion almost swallowing him up. It makes Bucky feel like a little kid again, jotting notes down in green crayon on his very own notebook, pretending to help his dad work.

George takes a seat in front of him, his hands resting easy on the arms of the chair. He waits for Bucky to gather his thoughts, his silence and easy acceptance serving to calm Bucky down even more.

There is a reason Bucky bought him a mug with the words ‘BEST DAD IN THE WORLD’ in big black letters when he was six. Using his own money. That he saved by picking up extra chores around the house, even the gross ones like vacuuming under the couch and playing with Becca.

George is the best, and Bucky loves him more than words can describe.

“So,” Bucky starts, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, “soulmates.”

His dad smiles, the lines around his mouth and the corner of his eyes deepening. “I'm listening, son.”

“How… how did you tell Ma?” Bucky tries, worrying at his bottom lip. “You know, about the soulmates thing and what you saw?”

“Well,” George considers, scratching his chin a little, “you know how your mother is. She thought I was hiding something from her, which I was. So during one of our dates she threatened to curse me unless I told her about it.”

“What?” Bucky chokes out, eyes widening.

“It’s true,” George says, grinning at Bucky with a fond look on his face. “She told me she could make it so I had an itch in the back of my throat for the rest of my life, as well as clammy palms. I didn’t stand a chance. So I told her.”

“How did she take it?”

“Surprisingly well,” George tells him, still smiling. “She looked at me and said, ‘Well now, George, I already knew _that_.’”

“What?” Bucky leans forward, his voice high. “How did she—”

“She didn’t really know,” George explains, “not in the way that we Barneses do. But she told me she knew I was the one for her the first moment she saw me.”

It is a sweet story. It brings a smile to his face to hear his dad tell him, but it doesn’t really help him with Steve. At all.

He tells his dad as much, “Yeah, I don't think I can pull that off, dad.”

George laughs, low and deep. “Maybe not.”

“I don't know how to do this,” Bucky admits after a few seconds, bracing his elbows on his knees and hanging his head in his hands.

George moves, and a second later Bucky feels his father’s hand on top of his head. “The most important thing is to be honest,” he starts, his voice soothing. “This is a big thing you have been keeping from your Steve, and big things can cause big reactions. You need to understand that while you find the fact that you are soulmates to be a good thing, Steve might have a different opinion. It is important for you to respect that.”

“I know,” Bucky answers, sounding downright miserable.

He's very aware of the fact that being with your soulmate doesn't mean being happy. This is a choice people make, to be together, and they have to put in work and effort to make it a good thing like in every other relationship.

Still, the advice helps. Just like Bucky knew it would. And knowing his dad is there for him warms Bucky to his heart.

“Thanks, dad,” Bucky says. He can't deny that his dad gave him a lot of good ideas to run with.

“Always, son,” his dad answers, clapping him on the back when Bucky stands up to hug him.

With that, Bucky leaves.

He has some research to do.

 

**

 

Souls are a curious thing, Bucky learns as he pores over books and more books about the subject.

Soulmates, even more so.

A lot of what he reads are lies wrapped in pretty packages, the kind of stuff sold to people who would rather believe in tales than the truth. Some of it, he’s lucky enough to find, match with everything he has been taught about soulmates.

People might have one person who is the love of their life, whose soul complements theirs in all the right ways. That does not mean there is the only place they can find love.

It is considered lucky to find your soulmate, but not unlucky not to do so.

 

**

 

**Bucky [3:25PM]:**

_Hey, do you think we could go somewhere today?_

 

Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest as he hits send, his hands shaking slightly when he sets his phone down on his coffee table. He leans back against his couch, wrapping his fleece duck blanket around himself, a self-soothing habit he’s had since he was a kid.

If he’s warm and surrounded by soft things, then the situation can’t be all bad, right?

Bucky wonders if it’s possible for someone to be so nervous they cease to exist. He surely feels like it could be a thing, his body almost vibrating while he waits for Steve’s reply. His stomach is in knots, his palms clammy, and he can feel sweat prickling at the back of his neck.

Bucky jumps a little in place when his phone buzzes, his heart tripping in his chest at the sound. He takes a few deep breaths and lets them out as slowly as he can, and then carefully uncurls himself from his ducky blanket burrito. His fingers tremble as he reaches for his phone, and it takes him a few tries before manages to unlock the screen.

 

**Steve** <3 [3:28PM]:

_I’d love to :D Do you have something in mind?_

 

**Bucky [3:28PM]:**

_The park sounds okay?_

 

**Steve** <3 [3:29PM]:

_It’s a date ;)_

 

Bucky can’t really stop the tiny smile that curls at the corner of his lips. The sense of dread and impending doom still haunts him, though, as he and Steve hammer out the details of their… It doesn’t feel right for Bucky to call it a date, not when it might be the last time he ever sees Steve.

Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. For maybe the tenth time that day, Bucky wonders why he didn’t have a dream about this. The least his stupid curse could do is warn him about getting his ass dumped.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Bucky mumbles, sniffing a little. “Nothing’s happened yet.”

Bucky blows out a breath, scratching at his chest and trying to ignore the deep pain in his heart. He needs to get ready for his… outing with Steve. Bucky can’t meet him when he smells like old sweaty socks and his hair is stringy with grease. He needs to smell nice, have shiny hair, and wear clothes that make him look cuddly.

If he’s about to maybe get dumped by his soulmate, he’ll at least do it while looking nice as fuck.

Bucky breaks out one of his galaxy bath bombs, soaking in the purple-ish blue glittery water until his skin is soft and glowing. It helps him relax a little, muscles losing some tension as he wiggles his toes under the water, warmth surrounding him.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get out of the tub, but Bucky still needs to dry his hair and shave. His blow-dried hair falls into loose waves above his shoulders, looking shiny and soft and smelling like lemons.

Shaving takes a little more time, with Bucky being careful not to cut himself. The smooth skin of his jaw makes his features look sharp, accentuating his cheekbones and the dimple on his chin. Bucky blows a kiss to his reflection, his plump lips looking almost red under the light, only for his shoulders to slump a second later.

“Hey, universe?” Bucky says out loud, his voice echoing through the bathroom walls. “If maybe you could… you know… make this go alright for me? I’d appreciate it.”

There is no answer, not that Bucky was expecting one.

He knows he could buy himself an espresso with a shot of good luck, but relying on fae magic seems dishonest when it comes to this. He doesn’t want anything to interfere with what he is doing or with Steve’s reaction to it.

Bucky is just going to be himself and hope for the best.

Bucky’s self, this time, includes dressing in tight black jeans, boots, and a dark gray sweater thrown under a black hoodie and black leather jacket. He lets his hair down, tucking it behind his ears, the strands curling towards his jaw.

He looks good, if he says so himself — hot, but not intimidating; hot, but cozy and inviting. He just hopes Steve will see the softness in him, instead of the whole lying by omission thing.

For some reason, Bucky doesn’t really think that will happen.

The ride to the park only serves to make Bucky even _more_ nervous. Now that he’s not worried about looking cute as fuck, he has time to be alone with his thoughts.

Bucky doesn’t _want_ to be alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t want to keep conjuring up in his head a dozen different ways in which this conversation could go. One scenario gives way to an even worse one, going from Steve crying happy tears at having a soulmate to Steve calling up the Avengers so they can help him kick Bucky’s ass.

Bucky doesn’t want to have his ass kicked. He has a great ass. Plus, he’s been torturing himself about this since his conversation with his dad, so he figures he’s suffered enough. No need to compromise one of his best features over it.

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his knee bouncing up and down. He pointedly ignores the glares the man sitting next to him shoots him, his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie.

“You can do this,” Bucky murmurs to himself, blowing out a breath. “You can totally do this, Barnes.”

“Can you keep your leg still?” the vampire next to him snaps, hugging his briefcase close to his chest and glaring at Bucky from under round silver framed glasses.

“I don’t know,” Bucky snarks. “Can you stop being grumpy?”

The man turns red in the face, a sign he’s drank fresh blood recently, and outrage flashes in his eyes. “You—”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky sighs, pressing his knees together and gripping the back of his thighs. “I just… I’m nervous. I might be on my way to get my ass dumped by my very nice and incredibly good-looking boyfriend.”

The vampire blinks at him in surprise, and then shakes his head as he goes back to glaring at Bucky. “Do you think I care?” he asks, fangs flashing as he speaks. “Now shut up.”

“Rude,” Bucky grumbles, scowling at the vampire. He stops when he hears someone choke on a laugh on the other side of him. The girl sitting next to him looks up, amber eyes twinkling under the shitty lights. “Right?” Bucky whispers conspiratorially, even though he knows the vampire can hear him. “So rude.”

The vampire huffs, standing up and hitting Bucky on the shoulder with his briefcase as he goes over to sit as far away from Bucky as he can. Bucky feels a little bad about it, but he can’t be bothered to keep caring when his stop comes nearer and nearer.

His leg goes back to bouncing again, and a lump forms in his throat. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his mouth and onto the dirty floor.

“Hey,” the girl next to him whispers, amber eyes flicking to Bucky’s leg before going back up to his face. “Good luck with your boyfriend. I’m sure things will be fine.”

Bucky gives her a wobbly smile, warmth spreading through him. Kind words always make him feel a little bit better, even though he’s sure they’re mostly lies. “Thanks,” he says, voice cracking. “I hope so.”

That’s what Bucky holds on to when he gets to his stop, waving goodbye at the girl before he walks to the park. The air is crisp and chilly around him, biting at Bucky’s cheeks and nose. It helps him take deep breaths, the cold air feeling his lungs, calming him down a little.

Bucky picks a spot somewhere that will give him and Steve privacy while still remaining open enough in case one of them wants to run away if everything goes to shit. He drops down on a concrete bench, zipping his hoodie up to his chin and sticking his hands in his jacket pockets to protect himself from the cold while he waits.

It doesn’t take long before his phone vibrates with an incoming text from Steve, asking Bucky where he is. Bucky texts back directions, his stomach turning into knots.

This is it.

He’s going to do this.

He’s going to tell Steve.

Oh my _god,_ he is _going to tell Steve_.

Bucky is so busy freaking the fuck out that he misses the 200 pounds of hot blond walking in his direction. He misses the way Steve’s bright smile slips away and turns into a concerned frown, the way his light steps turns purposeful, the way his hands reach out to make sure Bucky is okay.

At least until Steve is right there in front of him, setting a hand on his shoulder and turning Bucky to face him, the air around them growing toasty warm.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, hand sliding from Bucky’s shoulder and down his arm, checking for injuries and leaving a trail of heat in its place.

Bucky shivers a little, leaning into the heat of Steve’s body despite himself, his heart going a mile a minute. “I…” Bucky trails off, voice failing. He stares at Steve, looking so beautiful under the afternoon sun in a dark blue sweater thrown over a white shirt, his jeans hugging his muscular thighs and perfectly framing the bulge of his dick.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asks again, his other hand resting on the side of Bucky’s neck, thumb not-so-sneakily checking Bucky’s pulse.

And Bucky, because he can be an absolute idiot sometimes, blurts out, “We need to talk.”

Steve’s entire demeanor changes. He goes from concerned to tense and closed-off in a second, his hands falling away from Bucky’s body to rest in his lap. Bucky mourns the loss of it, wanting Steve’s touch while he can still have it.

“Did I do something wrong?” Steve asks, voice surprisingly level while he looks like Bucky is about to stick a knife in his chest and twist it.

That’s so at odds from all of the scenarios Bucky’s come up with the past hours that it gives him pause, stopping him in his tracks and effectively killing his freak out. “I… What? Of course not! Why would you think that?”

“You just said we need to talk,” Steve answers, gaze falling to his lap, “so I must have done something.”

Bucky blinks at Steve, jaw slack, mind going over what he’s just said. They do need to talk, but not because Steve did anything wrong. “You didn’t do anything. Why—”

“You wouldn’t be trying to break up with me if I hadn’t done _something_ ,” Steve snaps a little, and then looks promptly ashamed of himself.

Bucky, for his turn, knows he looks like a complete dolt with his mouth open and eyes wide in shock, sputtering as he tries to get his thoughts in order. “I am not trying to break up with you!” Bucky argues, because that is absolutely the last thing he wants.

“You _must be_ ,” Steve argues, lips turned down in an unhappy line. “You said we need—”

“I know what I said,” Bucky cuts him off, annoyance making his voice sharp, “but I would really appreciate if you stopped trying to speak for me and putting words into my mouth and _listened_.”

“But you—” Steve tries to argues again.

Bucky raises a hand, and he must look as pissed as he’s feeling because Steve shuts up, his jaw clenched as he forces himself to keep quiet. Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to find calm within himself so he can get through this.

“I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me what I want,” Bucky states, proud when his voice comes out even, “because I absolutely don’t, not ever, want to break up with you. _And_ you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve licks his lips, still looking uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“One-hundred percent,” Bucky tells him, relaxing a little now that Steve isn’t trying to speak over him. “I realize I could have phrased things better instead of just—”

“Telling me we ‘need to talk’?” Steve offers, shoulders losing a bit of tension.

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, scrubbing a hand over his face. “That’s classic ‘we have a problem’ speech, and I’m sorry for that. I really don’t want to break up with you. At all.”

“Okay.” Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and not listening when you tried to explain.”

“I’m sorry for being an idiot and not being clear about what I meant,” Bucky throws back, and then frowns at himself. “Which I realize I still haven’t done.”

“Not really.” Steve gives him a tentative smile. “You looked like something was wrong, when I got here, so… what do you need to talk to me about?”

“Well,” Bucky starts, heart in his throat, “I don’t want to break up with you. I really don’t. But what I need to talk to you about might make you not want to have anything to do with me anymore.”

Steve stares at him for a few seconds, eyes blazing hot. “Why don’t you let me decide that for myself?”

Bucky smiles a little, fond and proud. That is exactly what he wants. “Do you remember,” Bucky says hesitantly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “when I told you about my family’s curse?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, brows furrowing. “Did something happen?”

_Yes_ , Bucky thinks, _you happened_.

Bucky doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he takes a very deep breath, lets it out slowly, and braces himself for heartbreak when he says, “You were one of my dreams.”

 

**

 

In his life, Bucky Barnes has had to tell people about his visions only a handful of times.

The most notable, and the one he likes to entirely forget about, is the banana/STD incident. He remembers it like it was yesterday, waking up from his dream of a rotten banana the day after he had unprotected sex for the first time, convinced he caught something and his dick was going to fall off. He’s still traumatized by the conversation he had to have with his mom, who looked both incredibly pissed and endlessly amused, and hasn’t had unprotected sex since.

But there was also the time he had to tell Claire about his dream of bleeding wolves before coming into the hospital, right before they were hit with incomings from a nasty shifter fight. And when he had to have a very serious talk with Becca about not putting glitter on his shampoo bottle before he went on a blind date, only for his dream of brown strands and golden sparks reveal itself to be the fact that his date was fae.

In his life, Bucky Barnes has had to tell people about his visions only a handful of times.

This is definitely the most important one.

 

**

 

“I was… what?” Steve asks, reeling back in surprise, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline.

“You were one of my dreams,” Bucky repeats, the words like ash in his mouth.

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Bucky recognizes what Steve is doing, in the way his jaw clenches and his shoulders straighten. He is bracing himself for a fight.

“Explain this to me,” Steve tells him, and then adds, “please.”

“Well,” Bucky takes a steadying breath himself, trying to ignore the way it feels like his stomach is going to revolt, “you know I have visions, sometimes. They come to me in dreams. The way the curse works, they’re only ever about anything that relates to me directly, anything that is going to affect my life in one way or another. Big or small, doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” Steve nods, following along.

“They’re not clear, the visions,” Bucky continues, licking his lips. “They’re not complete. They usually just let me know something is going to happen and when. Sometimes I have trouble understanding what they mean until the moment they happen, but other times…”

“You know exactly what they mean?” Steve offers, and then asks when Bucky nods his assent, “And you knew you had a dream about me?”

Bucky shakes his head, because that’s not quite right. “I knew I was going to meet you, that day.”

Steve frowns. “So you dreamed we were going to meet? What’s the big deal about that?”

Bucky swallows past a lump in his throat, because this is it. This is the moment. This is when everything they’ve built together can fall apart.

“I didn’t have a glimpse of meeting _you_ , Steve Rogers, specifically,” Bucky corrects, feeling the snakes on his stomach coil tighter, the tips of his fingers growing numb as dread spreads through his body.

Steve’s voice is quiet when he speaks, intensity burning in his gaze, “Who did you know you were going to meet, Bucky?”

Bucky’s lip trembles, just once, before he says the words that will change his life forever, “My soulmate.”

Bucky isn’t sure what reaction he’s expecting, but for Steve to lean away from him and the air around them go sticky hot sounds about right.

“What?” Steve asks, all wide eyes and rigid shoulders.

“Part of the Barnes curse,” Bucky starts, voice wobbly, “is that we always have a dream, right before meeting the person who could be the love of our lives, that tells us we are going to meet our soulmate. It’s the one dream that is always clear, always easy to figure out. My parents are soulmates, and so were my grandparents before them. Sometimes things don’t work out, between soulmates, but it’s rare.”

And as Bucky sits on a bench at the park in a sunny November afternoon, facing the man meant for him as silence surrounds them, Bucky figures this might be one of those times.

Bucky waits for Steve to say something. He worries at his bottom lip, teeth nipping at flesh until he can taste blood, but the only sounds to be heard are those of the wind ruffling leaves and birds chirping in the distance. Steve has a far off look on his face, staring at Bucky and yet not at all.

“I…” Steve clears his throat, voice failing him. “I need some time to think about this.”

“I understand.” Bucky nods. He’s expected this much. He’s willing to give Steve all the time he needs.

“This is a big thing, Bucky,” Steve says, sounding like he’s still not quite there, gaze distant and tone heavy.

Bucky nods his agreement. He’s not going to pretend he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I want you to know that this is not an excuse,” Bucky begins, doing his best to stare Steve in the eye; it’s the least Steve deserves from him. “I know it was wrong of me to keep this from you, but when we first met I didn’t think I had to tell you. It was too new, and I didn’t want to scare you off. Not when I was just getting to know you, and when I didn’t even know how you were like as a person. The thing about soulmates is that, despite Fate thinking we’re good together, it doesn’t mean we will think the same thing. So I didn’t want to fall head first into this and drag you with me. I wanted us to get to know each other first, to see if we could have something between us.”

“You’re right,” Steve says, swallowing hard. “That’s not an excuse.”

Bucky nods and blinks back tears. He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and brings out a wrinkled folded piece of paper, “I did some research on my own, about the soulmate thing, based on what I know of it from my family. This is a list of books I found that seem to be legit.” He hands the list to Steve, who hesitates only a second before taking it. “I know you like to learn about this sort of thing yourself, but I thought I could help a little.”

“Okay,” Steve says, the tightness on his expression smoothing into total blankness.

The silence grows between them, weighing down on Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky has to fight against the urge to say anything else; or to throw up or kneel at Steve's feet and ask him not to break up with him. That wouldn’t be fair. Not when Bucky is the one who got them into this mess in the first place.

“Please,” Bucky says quietly, curling his hands into fists so he won’t reach out and touch Steve, “take all the time you need with this.” Steve nods slowly, but he doesn’t say anything else. Bucky wasn’t really expecting him to, so he keeps going, “I… I understand if you’re not comfortable being with me anymore.” The words hurt Bucky, the knife in his heart plunging deeper, “but I can’t leave without saying that I hope we can work things out, somehow. That I want us to… to still be an _us_.”

There is heat coming from Steve in waves, but for once Bucky doesn’t find it comforting. Especially when Steve asks, “Because I'm your soulmate?”

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, letting the word linger in the space between them. “No, because you're _Steve_.”

 

**

 

Bucky doesn't hear from Steve for a week.

A miserable, no good, heartbreaking week. When he’s not stuck at the hospital, he spends some time at his parents’ house, moping and wallowing like a very sad ghost. Even Becca takes pity on his pathetic self and refrains from making fun of him, going as far as letting Bucky pick what they watch on Netflix and sharing her favorite space blanket with him.

“I’m gonna get snot on your blanket,” Bucky croaks out, not pushing Becca away when she slumps against his side.

“That’s okay,” Becca assures him, patting him on the arm. “I’ll get my revenge when you don’t look this pathetic.”

Bucky sniffs. “You’re a good sister.”

“I know,” Becca says, and then hits play on _The Good Place_.

This is the saddest Bucky remembers feeling since he accidentally broke his favorite Yoda mug after a night of drinking at _Josie’s_. That had resulted in him curling up on his kitchen floor beside the green glass shreds covering the tile, crying so hard his sobs echoed through the room.

Bucky doesn’t move from his sadness nest when he feels the couch dip beside him, curling up more firmly under the constellations that make Becca’s blanket. He feels his dad’s hand settle on top of his head, a comforting weight that just makes him want to start crying again.

“Son,” George says, running his hand once through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky sniffs and blinks up at him, leaning into the touch. He feels all of five years old right now, staring at his father and wanting him to make things right.

Which is why his heart skips a beat when his dad smiles a little and says, “Everything will be just fine.”

 

**

 

Everything is not just fine.

It takes two more days before Bucky hears from Steve, his heart almost jumping out of his chest when his phone vibrates, Steve's name flashing across the screen.

 

**Steve** <3 [8:34AM]:

_Can we meet?_

 

Bucky’s fingers shake as he types out his reply, a short and to-the-point, _‘yes, absolutely_.’ It takes only about five seconds before Steve is telling him when and where he wants to see Bucky: today, right after lunch, at the same park bench where Bucky revealed the truth about what they are to each other.

They’re really going to do this, then. They’re really going to talk, after days of radio silence.

“I can totally deal with this,” Bucky tells himself, voice wavering as he speaks to the empty walls in his apartment.

Bucky can’t really deal with this. He showers off three days worth of grease from his hair and shaves, and then spends the better part of the morning trying to figure out what to wear. He hits play on his ‘Snooze’ playlist to see if it helps him calm down, throwing sweater after sweater on top of his bed. He wants something that makes him look cuddly and not totally miserable, although he’s pretty sure Steve will be able to tell he hasn’t had the best of weeks.

The soft tune of Billie Holiday’s _I’ll be seeing you_ wraps up by the time Bucky puts on his dark-wash skinny jeans and a light gray sweater. He pulls his hair up in a bun, a few short strands coming loose and tickling his cheeks. Looking at himself in the mirror, Bucky tries to ignore the dark circles under his eyes, focusing instead on how soft the sweater makes him look.

“You can do this,” Bucky tells his reflection, watching as he gulps and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

Bucky still has a couple of hours before he’s supposed to meet Steve, but he finds that he can’t spend them at home. So he grabs his keys, wallet, and jacket, and decides to treat himself to lunch.

There’s very little pleasure to be found in food when Bucky is this nervous, but he tries to eat anyway. He fills an hour at a little hole-in-the-wall Polish restaurant, stuffing his face with placek po cygańsku and watching the busy street through the window. Bucky leaves his money at the table when it’s time to go, watching it disappear along with his plates before he heads out.

It is no surprise to Bucky that Steve is already there, although Bucky’s heart still does this weird thing in his chest when he sees Steve, where it trips all over itself and then speeds up. Steve is dressed in light blue jeans and a tight navy Henley paired with a soft gray cardigan, which stretches wonderfully across his chest and shoulders.

Steve looks up at him as he draws near, blond hair almost white under the sun, his blue eyes bright and focused solely on Bucky. Bucky, for his turn, tries his best to stare right back at him, the chill in his bones giving away to warmth the closer he gets to Steve. He tentatively sits down on the bench, leaving a healthy amount of space between them, his hands curling into fists so Steve can't see how bad they're shaking.

“Hi,” Steve says, quiet and cautious.

Bucky missed him, if he’s being honest. It’s been only around a month since they met, but not having Steve in his life affected him more than he thought it would.

“Hey,” Bucky croaks out, clearing his throat a few times. He takes a deep steadying breath, trying to keep himself grounded now that he’s here, with Steve right next to him. It won’t do him any good if he starts hyperventilating.

“How are you doing?” Steve asks, and Bucky wants to cry. Of course Steve is worried about him, even after everything that happened.

“I’ve been better,” Bucky answers honestly, offering Steve a wobbly smile. “You?”

Steve nods, throwing Bucky’s words back at him, “I’ve been better.”

Bucky stomps down on the little flare of hope that courses through him, because that doesn't mean anything.

“I read the books on your list,” Steve says, leaning his elbows on his knees. This puts him a little closer to Bucky, who basks in the warmth radiating off of Steve.

“Did they help?”

“Yes.” Steve’s lips twitch. “I also called a few psychics. And spoke with Thor.”

Thor. The norse god Thor.

_Okay, Barnes_ , Bucky thinks to himself. _Don’t freak out_.

Bucky blinks and asks, in a very faint voice, “Thor?”

“I know very few people who understand as much of magic and life as he does,” Steve tells him, smiling a little. “He was able to offer a unique perspective.”

Right. Sure.

“Okay.” Bucky nods, because that makes sense.

Thor.

_Thor_.

Thor is a god, and he has been alive for longer than their world has existed. Bucky can’t quite grasp that, even though he lives in a world where humans aren’t the only beings who walk on Earth.

It’s just… _Thor_.

“Did… did Thor help?” Bucky asks, eyes widening a little because he can’t quite believe this is his life at the moment. He figures this is what he’s signed up for, when he found out his soulmate was Steve.

“He did,” Steve replies, but doesn’t offer anything more than that.

Bucky swallows hard, nodding a little. “That’s good.”

“Can I ask you a few things about it? The soulmates thing?”

“Yes,” Bucky rushes to answer. “Anything you want to know, just ask.”

Steve nods, turning a little more in his seat so he’s facing Bucky fully. Their knees almost touch, and Bucky fights himself not to move his leg and close the distance between them.

“So, we’re soulmates.”

“Yes,” Bucky confirms, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach at hearing Steve acknowledge that.

“But us getting together is still a choice, right?” Steve prompts.

“Yes.” Bucky nods, uncurling his hands and laying them flat on top of his knees. “Even though Fate likes to make itself known, we all still have free will. We can make our own choices, including that of being with someone. Just because some people are soulmates, doesn't mean they would be happy together.”

“So it's a choice,” Steve says again, nodding to himself.

“It is.”

“And if we chose not to…”

Bucky tries to keep his voice steady. “Then we chose not to. We move on. Nothing stops us from meeting someone new, falling in love, and having a happy life with them.”

It’s not what Bucky wants, not really. He wants to give this a try with Steve, wants to see where they can go together. But if that’s not what Steve wants? Well, all Bucky can do is respect that and wish him a happy life.

Steve lets out a breath, relaxing a little. “And if we do chose to...?”

Bucky blinks, nails digging into the meat of his thighs as he tries to keep himself from choking. “Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean our relationship will magically work itself out. We need to make an effort, just like with other relationships. It's our choice, so we're the ones who need to make it work.”

Steve stays silent for a while, staring at Bucky, until he quietly says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky asks, beyond the point of being embarrassed when his voice comes out all squeaky and high-pitched. He gets a free pass, okay?

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, eyes shining when he looks at Bucky. “I like you a lot,” he admits, and Bucky watches in fascination as the tips of Steve’s ears turn red. “It’s… I like spending time with you. It’s easy and it’s fun.”

“I like to spend time with you, too,” Bucky says softly, giving in to the urge to press their knees together. The small touch sends shivers down Bucky’s spine, and his heart flutters when Steve doesn’t pull away.

“Just…” Steve licks his lips, pressing his knee more firmly against Bucky’s. “Don’t keep anything like this from me. Ever again. If we’re going to do this, _really_ do this, we need to be honest with each other.”

“If we’re going to do this?” Bucky asks, almost vibrating in place.

“Well,” Steve glances at their knees before looking back at Bucky, “it has to be your choice too.”

Bucky laughs. He can’t help it. It comes out a bit hysterical, but it carries through the space between them and puts a smile on Steve’s face.

“It is my choice,” Bucky says in a rush of get the words out, to let Steve know he wants this. “I want to do this. I want to be with you.”

“Good.” Steve smiles and ducks his head, cheeks tinged pink. “That’s… I’m glad.”

Bucky laughs again, this time joined by Steve, both of them smiling and staring at each other like idiots. Or at least until Bucky abruptly gets up, grabbing Steve by the collar of his stupid soft cardigan.

When Bucky pulls him into a kiss, Steve doesn’t hesitate to kiss back.

 

**

 

“Go on a date with me,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s mouth, pulling him into another kiss before he can answer.

Bucky smiles into it, too giddy to care about their teeth clinking together. He’s as happy as he’s ever been, and he wants to hold this moment close to his heart. Relief and happiness rush through him in equal measure, and he thanks the heavens and Thor for giving him this — for Steve wanting to be with him.

“Yes,” Bucky squeezes in between kisses, hands cupping Steve’s cheeks and keeping him close.

“Okay.” Steve kisses him again, hard and sweet, before pulling back and grabbing Bucky’s hand in his own. “Let’s go.”

Bucky laughs, letting Steve leade him away from the bench. “Right now?”

“Yes.” Steve nods, and then stops himself, looking at Bucky from over his shoulder. “If… if that’s okay? If you have something to do, we can—”

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Steve,” Bucky grins, “right now.”

Steve smiles back, wide and bright, leaning into to steal another chaste kiss. “Yay.”

“Yay,” Bucky says back, ignoring the giggle that falls past his lips. It only makes Steve smile harder, his entire self radiating warmth and joy. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know?” Steve laughs to himself, shaking his head, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “I just… I missed you.”

Bucky swallows hard, letting go of Steve’s hand so he can wrap Steve in a tight hug. “I’m sorry I was a butt.”

Steve laughs again, the sound muffled by Bucky’s shoulder. He snakes his arm around Bucky’s waist, holding him close. “I accept your apology, and forgive you for being a butt.”

Bucky squeezes Steve one more time, before smacking a kiss on his cheek and pulling back. “How about we take a walk? Maybe I’ll even let you buy me some ice cream.”

“When it’s this cold?” Steve raises an eyebrow at him, slipping his hand into Bucky’s own and linking their fingers together.

Bucky leans against Steve’s side, touching his forearm and snuggling close. “I have you to warm me up, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s temple. “You do.”

So they walk around the park, aimlessly at first, just enjoying each other’s company. They talk on the way, catching each other up on what the other missed before moving on to different subjects, from what happened in the last episode of _American Gods_ to how many dogs Steve petted this month to what kind of ice cream they’re getting.

“Wanna share?” Steve asks Bucky, swinging their clasped hands between their bodies.

“That’s disgustingly romantic,” Bucky says, rubbing a thumb over Steve’s knuckles. “Yes, please.”

They sit down to people-watch while they share their chocolate ice cream, trading sweet and sticky kisses every once in awhile. Bucky cuddles closer to Steve, who wraps an arm around his shoulders, relaxing against the warmth of Steve’s body pressed to his.

“Thank you for giving me another chance,” Bucky says quietly, scooping another bit of ice cream into his mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Steve answers, nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s. “Now never thank me for that again.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky winks, smiling when Steve rolls his eyes. “Really, though. I’ll do better.”

“We both will,” Steve tells him, the promise hanging between them. “We’re a team. You don’t hold the entire weight of this relationship on your shoulders. We’re both in this, so it takes the two of us to make this work.”

“A team,” Bucky repeats, heart tugging in his chest.

“Yes. You and me. Steve and Bucky.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners, his heart so full it could burst. “I like the sound the sound of that.”

After all, it is all he’s ever wanted.

 

**

 

**Steve** <3 [11:50PM]:

_Hey Buck I’m going away for a few days_

**Steve** <3 [11:50PM]:

_Not mission related, just PR related_ >:(

**Steve** <3 [11:51PM]:

_I’ll text you when I can_ :*

 

**

 

“How did you know?” Bucky asks his dad as they wash the breakfast dishes, his Ma and Becca watching cartoons in the living room.

“Know what?” George asks, handing Bucky a mug to dry, his lips twitching.

Bucky narrows his eyes at his dad. “That everything was going to be okay with Steve?”

George chuckles, bumping an elbow against Bucky’s arm. “Son,” his dad glances at him, eyes twinkling, “sometimes, we Barneses just know.”

 

**

 

Once again, Bucky dreams of the rising sun.

He feels himself smiling in the dream as rays of sunshine break through the night’s darkness, coloring the sky red and orange and blue. He can feel the heat of it on his skin, warm and familiar, wrapping itself around him.

Bucky dreams of the rising sun, and knows Steve has come back.

 

**

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bucky swears under his breath, hands curling into fists.

He’s in the middle of another 12-hour shift, having taken a quick three-minute break so he could grab some food, stuff it in his mouth, and try his best to swallow it without choking before he had to go back to work. As it is, Bucky scowls at the vending machine, watching as his snack gets trapped against the glass and refuses to fall down.

“Need some help?”

Bucky jumps in surprise, twirling around to face who spoke. Words get caught in his throat as he takes in the person standing in front of him, his eyes widening in shock and delight at the same time as a smile spreads across his face.

“ _Steve_?”

He knew Steve was back, but they haven’t had a chance to see each other. Between Bucky’s job and Steve having some meetings to attend, they haven’t found the time.

“Hi.” Steve smiles, scratching at the back of his neck with one hand while the other holds his shield, his cheeks slightly pink.

“Hel- _lo_ ,” Bucky drawls, eyes raking over Steve’s body and the pristine — and also _very_ tight — Captain America suit he’s wearing. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me, sweetheart.”

It’s not Bucky’s first time seeing Captain America. He watches the news and has seen Steve giving press conferences and talking to reporters post-battle while wearing the suit,  but it is Bucky’s first time seeing _Steve_ as Captain America.

And he has to say, it is fucking hot.

The suit is as tight as TV makes it out to be, clinging to Steve’s chest and thighs and calves. The red-white-and-blue colors are a little bit of an eyesore, but Steve makes it work with his commanding posture and spectacular shoulders. Bucky even gets a little bit distracted ogling him, so much so that he misses Steve putting his shield down and giving a light punch to the vending machine, Bucky’s snack coming loose.

“Here,” Steve says, grabbing the snack and handing it to Bucky, his cheeks still red. “And I didn’t dress up for you.”

Bucky gasps, all mock-offense, now clutching his snack to his chest. “Shot through the heart.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips are quirking up in a smile. “You’ll live.”

“What are you doing here, though?” Bucky asks, smiling up at Steve. “And in that get-up, no less.”

Steve’s expression turns a little sad, his shoulders slumping. “I’m visiting the kids. Thought I could sneak out for a few minutes between visits to come find you and say hello.”

Bucky softens, taking a step closer and resting his hands on Steve’s waist. Steve’s arms come up around his shoulders, their foreheads touching when Steve ducks his head. “You were at the kids’ ward?”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, looking a little sad. “I try to schedule visits whenever I can. They’re so brave, Buck, and so so strong. If I can bring them a little happiness by coming here, then I’m gonna do it.”

Bucky presses a sweet kiss to Steve’s lips, heart warm. “That’s what makes you a superhero, you know?”

Steve makes a little hurt sound in the back of his throat, closing his eyes. “They’re the heroes.”

“Ain’t gonna argue with that,” Bucky murmurs, brushing their lips together again, a small gesture of comfort.

At least until someone clears their throat behind them, making them jump apart.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Sam says, sounding more amused than apologetic.

“It’s alright, Sam.” Steve takes a step back, but doesn’t let go of Bucky. Instead, his hand slides down Bucky’s arm, until he can grab Bucky’s hand and tangle their fingers together. “We know you’re not sorry.”

Bucky presses his lips together not to laugh, while Sam looks about two seconds away from smacking Steve on the head. “It’s nice to see you again, Sam,” Bucky says, eyes going to Sam’s wings. “Wing fully healed?”

“Yup.” Sam grins, stretching his red wings behind him, showing them off. “Good as new.”

“You also visiting the kiddos?”

Sam nods, expression softening. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for. Steve, we gotta go. The next group will be ready for us in a couple of minutes.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Steve promises.

“Good seeing you, Barnes,” Sam tells Bucky, tilting his chin up. “Don’t keep him for long.”

Steve turns to him once Sam is out of sight, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “I’ll text you?”

“You better.” Bucky tugs Steve closer, going a little cross-eyed at having Steve’s chest clad in tight fabric right in front of him.

“You really like the suit, huh?” Steve asks, smirking a little.

“No,” Bucky huffs, letting go of Steve’s hand so he can rest them both over Steve’s chest, feeling the muscles under his palm. “It’s an eyesore. I like how _you_ look in it, though.”

“I do have one all in navy,” Steve throws out there, looking all kinds of smug when Bucky groans and drops his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “Maybe I could wear it for you sometime.”

“As long as it’s for fun and not because you’re working,” Bucky answers, pulling back and letting go of Steve, “which you need to go do right now. Those kids are waiting for you.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Steve winks, and then leans down so he can kiss Bucky one more time. “See you soon.”

“I’ll text you,” Bucky lets him know, pressing one final kiss to Steve’s mouth before he goes. “Now go.”

Steve does, grabbing his shield and waving Bucky goodbye.

Bucky has to admit, as his eyes fall to Steve’s round ass in those tight superhero suit pants, he loves to watch him go.

 

**

 

**Bucky [10:16AM]:**

_Hey how do you feel about having a movie night at my place on saturday?_

 

**Steve** <3 [1:06PM]:

_I feel very good about it :D Want me to bring anything?_

 

**Bucky [4:19PM]:**

_Just yourself_

_And some pizza pls_

 

**Steve** <3 [5:33PM]:

_It’s a date ;)_

 

**

 

Bucky isn’t freaking out.

Really, he isn’t.

He absolutely doesn’t spend his entire morning cleaning his apartment because he’s worried about what Steve might say if he’s forced to spend more than a few minutes in the mess that Bucky calls home. During this process, Bucky absolutely doesn’t find out he only has one bucket at his place, which he’s used more often as something to throw up in than something to actually fill with water and use clean stuff. He also absolutely one hundred percent doesn’t call his Ma to ask her how to make his apartment feel cozy and welcoming.

“Having more furniture would certainly help,” his Ma sniffs, and Bucky doesn’t need to be standing in front of her to know she’s judging him for all of this choices.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ma, please.”

“Why this sudden interest in making your apartment look like you actually _live_ in it, instead of it being a place you just sleep at sometimes?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. He knows his Ma is fishing for information, and he has to decide if giving it to her is worth more than leaving things as they are. He glances at the sad wet mop leaning against the wall and at his vomit bucket and knows he’s already lost.

“Steve is coming over today,” Bucky says through gritted teeth, closing his eyes and asking for strength when his Ma lets out an excited squeak.

“For sex?” she asks, sounding way more interested than she should be.

“ _Ma!_ ” Bucky hisses, blood rushing to his face. “I’m not answering that.”

Truth be told, Bucky briefly considered that when he invited Steve to come over, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as he came up with it. He knows they’re taking things slow, especially after the big soulmate reveal. It’s not a bad thing, them taking this time to get to know each other before they fall into bed. As much as Bucky _wants_ to have sex with Steve, he wants to spend time with him more.

“This is a safe space, James,” Winifred says, trying to be soothing. “You can always talk to me about these kind of things.”

Bucky takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, wondering what he did in a past life to deserve a mother like this one. “Ma, can you just…”

“Oh, alright,” his Ma huffs. “Is there anything specific you have in mind?”

Bucky worries at his bottom lip, thinking back to his parents’ house. Their place always gives Bucky a sense of contentment and warmth, of safety and welcoming, wrapping around his senses and making him relax. He wants his apartment to be something like that for Steve: somewhere he can come to when he’s feeling low and vulnerable.

Winifred listens as he speaks, making quiet little thoughtful sounds as Bucky explains what he wants. “Well,” she starts after he’s done, voice low and pleased, “there is one thing that will help you achieve that.”

“A charm?” Bucky asks, already grabbing his keys and wallet and checking how much time he has before Steve arrives. “I can call an Uber and be there in—”

“No,” his Ma interrupts him, “it’s not a charm.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, brows furrowed. “Then what is it?”

“What you’re looking for, James,” she says, and Bucky just _knows_ she’s smiling at him, “are scented candles.”

 

**

 

Bucky takes a tentative sniff at the lavender candle he’s holding, nose wrinkling at the smell. The display in front of him is filled with dozens and dozens of different candles, each with their own scent. He’s already sneezed twice since coming into the store, the blend of different perfumes not agreeing with him.

“Ma wouldn’t lie to me,” Bucky mumbles, moving to the next shelf over. “Not about soulmate business.”

Bucky sniffs a few more candles, lips turning down and expression settling into a glower the longer he stays at the store. Most of the candles smell like expensive bathrooms to him, or they remind him too much of Grandma Barnes for him to want them in his house.

Bucky’s almost lost all resemblance of hope when a label catches his eye, the pretty words _caramel apple cake_ calling out to him. He glances around him before approaching the shelf, fingers closing around one of the candles. He brings it up to his nose, taking a deep breath.

“Oh.” Bucky opens his eyes, not having realized he closed them. “Huh, not bad.”

He spends the next ten minutes picking up as many food scented candles as he can get his hands on, sniffing here and there in search of the perfect scent. He almost moans out loud when he finds the chocolate layer cake and homemade cookie candles, grabbing as many as he can before going to the checkout area.

Bucky wastes no time lighting up a cookie candle as soon as he gets home, grinning in excitement as it fills his living room with the sweet scent of welcome, comfort, and food. He takes his phone and shoots a quick _thank you_ text to his Ma with an attached picture of his new favorite home fragrance, and then goes about making sure he hasn’t left any of his dirty underwear on the floor of his bedroom.

One thing Bucky hasn’t considered, though, is that the longer the candle burns and the more it makes his entire apartment smell like a bakery, the hungrier he gets. After an hour Bucky is ready to start chewing on candle wax if it means he gets some cookies, his stomach grumbling loudly in the otherwise silent apartment.

“I’ve made a huge mistake,” Bucky tells himself as he glares at the candle, mouth watering.

 

**

 

Bucky has many flaws.

He uses his bedroom floor as a wardrobe, he picks his nose, he’s insensitive when he’s tired, and he reverts to being five years old whenever he’s around his sister. The worst of his flaws, though, which can be seen in action more often than not, is that he is _terrible_ at managing his own time.

Which is why, when Steve gets to his apartment, Bucky is totally unprepared.

 

**

 

The doorbell rings, startling Bucky out of his staring contest with his oven.

His kitchen smells like freshly baked cookies because, for the first time in about seven years, he’s actually _baking some_. He couldn’t not after the whole candle business, rushing out of his apartment to go buy some cookie dough so he could make himself his own plate of cookies.

But this means he let himself get distracted by chocolate chip goodness, so now he’s wearing only threadbare sweatpants that have seen better years and his ugly argyle sweater with a hole in the collar. While _Steve is waiting outside_.

“Fuck,” Bucky curses, rushing out of the kitchen to the living room before skidding to a stop in the middle of the room and making a beeline for his bedroom. The doorbell rings again, and Bucky looks from the door to his room to the hallway that leads back to the front of the apartment and then down at himself, indecision freezing him in place for a few seconds. “ _Fucking fuck_.”

Bucky can’t exactly leave Steve waiting. But he also can’t answer the door wearing the rattiest clothes he owns, smelling of cleaning supplies and flour. He meant to take another shower and put on his good dating clothes, but the cookies sidetracked him.

The doorbells rings again.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky says to himself, forgetting his bedroom and going to answer the door. “You can do this.”

He thinks he can do this.

Maybe.

He’s faced worse things than his boyfriend seeing him in ugly clothes, and Steve is such a good person that he’ll probably just tell Bucky he looks beautiful and smack a kiss on him. But still, they’ve only been dating for a short while and Bucky wants to make a good impression.

He wants to look good.

He wants to be irresistible.

He wants to seduce Steve by wearing tight pants and a deep v-neck sweater, dammit.

So with resolve, Bucky opens the door. And as soon as he sees Steve’s face, he says, “Hi, I’ll be right back,” and then turns around, only barely remembering to yell, “make yourself at home!” as he runs to his room.

Bucky isn’t proud of how he handled that particular problem, but as he stares at himself in the mirror and takes in how amazing his ass looks in his pants, he can’t help but think of this as a job well done. His new dark gray fleece sweatshirt also makes him look comfy as all fuck, which will hopefully lead to Steve cuddling the shit out of him as they watch movies.

“You got this, Barnes,” Bucky tells his mirror reflection, stopping to fluff up his bun and pull a few strands of hair so they’re framing his face. He also bites a little at his bottom lip, turning it pinker and plumper than it already is.

Alright, he’s ready for this.

Bucky goes back to the living room, balking when Steve is nowhere in sight. For a brief second he panics, thinking Steve got offended and left, but then he hears the oven door opening and closing, the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies drifting through the apartment.

Bucky’s eyes widen as he dashes to the kitchen, freezing at the door when he sees Steve wearing his dinosaur oven mitts and carefully placing the cookie tray on the counter.

“Oh my god, you’re not supposed to do that!” Bucky rushes to him, stopping beside Steve with his hands extended, wanting to pick up the tray himself but knowing not to.

Steve smiles at him, blue eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s fine. The timer went off when you were off making yourself pretty. I didn’t want them to burn.”

Bucky’s mouth snaps close at the same time his cheeks flush red, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. “I’ll have you know,” he starts, sounding only a little bit choked up, “that I am pretty all the time.”

Steve grins at that, taking off the mitt and placing it on the counter beside the tray. He turns to Bucky then, crowding him against the fridge, his hands finding their way to clutch at Bucky’s hips.

“That I’ll agree with,” Steve murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s.

Bucky can feel the unnatural warmth of Steve’s body close to his, making him feel safe and a little hot under the collar. He still doesn’t push Steve away, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders instead, pulling him close.

The kiss, when their lips touch, is soft and sweet and chaste, but it still makes Bucky’s toes curl in his socks.

“Hi,” Bucky whispers against Steve’s mouth, pressing a quick kiss to his chin.

“Hey,” Steve answers, hands squeezing at Bucky’s hips. “You made me cookies?”

Bucky snorts, kissing Steve on the cheek before slipping from his arms. “I made _me_ cookies,” he teases, going about putting the cookies in a big plate. “But I guess I can share some with you.”

“How generous,” Steve deadpans, lips twitching up.

“That’s me,” Bucky sniffs. “I’m a super generous guy.”

“Lucky me,” Steve says, eyes glinting dangerously.

Bucky finds himself blushing a little again, stomach swooping. “Here,” he pushes the plate into Steve’s hands, “take that to the living room with you. I’ll get us some drinks, then I can give you an official tour of the place?”

“Sounds good,” Steve says, kissing Bucky on the nose before leaving.

Drinks end up being two hot mugs of tea, because in between Bucky’s frenetic cleaning spree and cookie baking, he completely forgot to buy something suitable for them to share during movie night. He’s just glad Steve seems pleased about it, grinning when Bucky comes out with the two steaming mugs.

“How about that tour?” Steve asks, snaking an arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Well, you already know where some things are,” Bucky says, reminding them both of the time Steve tuck Bucky in bed and bought him groceries. “But let’s pretend you don’t.”

Steve laughs, kissing Bucky on the cheek. “Sounds good.”

Bucky watches Steve look around his apartment with curious eyes, gaze lingering on the books Bucky has stacked all over the place, as well as on every photo Bucky has of himself and his family on display.

“You look weird with short hair,” Steve says, staring intently at a picture of Bucky and Becca from a  couple of years ago, their arms wrapped around each other as they make faces at the camera.

“Gee, thank you,” Bucky says dryly, smiling when Steve turns to him, looking a bit sheepish.

“Sorry, it’s just…”

“You’re used to my long and luscious locks, I know.”

“Still sorry,” Steve says again, pulling Bucky into a quick kiss. “You’re beautiful. Always.”

Bucky laughs, cupping Steve’s cheek in one hand. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw me mid-shift at the hospital after being elbow deep in blood and guts.”

“I would,” Steve argues, sounding totally sure of himself. “I’d be a little grossed out, but I’d still think you’re beautiful.”

Bucky shakes his head at Steve, grinning. “Sweet talker.”

“Just telling the truth, Buck.”

“Well,” Bucky clears his throat, “you’re gorgeous, too, sweetheart. Most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen. Inside and out.”

”Buck,” Steve whispers, and it’s his turn to blush, pale skin turning pink and the air around them getting a little hot.

Bucky kisses him again, right in the middle of his hallway, slow and soft, pressing into the heat of Steve’s body. “C’mon,” he says when he pulls back, “we got movies to watch.”

They start with _Moana_ , both sitting as close as they can on the couch, drinking their tea and eating chocolate cookies. Steve’s eyes are alight with joy as the characters dance and sing, and every once in awhile he pokes Bucky’s arm with a finger and asks, “Did you see _that_?”, his love for art and fascination with animation coming out full force.

Bucky just grins and lets Steve talk, feeling cozy and warm and happy inside. Things only get better when Steve puts an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer so Bucky can rest his head on Steve’s chest. Steve’s body is warm and solid and he smells nice, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to throw a leg over Steve’s thighs and wrap an arm around his waist.

Maximum cuddle potential achieved, yes.

They take a break after _Moana_ is over in which Bucky orders pizza and Steve keeps going on about the movie. Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen Steve this excited, gesturing as he talks, voice growing louder the more animated he gets, eyes burning with passion.

Bucky could swear he can see a little bit of flames under Steve’s bright blue eyes, burning bright and beautiful.

“It’s just so amazing that they can do that now?” Steve gushes, cheeks a little pink. “It’s all computers, but they make everything look so realistic and smooth. And so _breathtaking_. I mean, I could never—” Steve stops abruptly, mouth snapping shut with a click. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“What?” Bucky startles, shaking his head. “Steve, of course not.”

“Yes, I—”

“You’re not.” Bucky reaches out and grabs one of Steve’s hands, tangling their fingers together. “I might not understand the subject very well, but I love hearing you talk about it. It’s obviously something you’re passionate about, and I like that you’re sharing it with me.”

Steve snaps his mouth shut again, but this time his expression is one of fondness, the lines of his face softening as he stares at Bucky. “You’re sure?”

Bucky brings Steve’s hand up to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “I’m sure. Now tell me more about computer animation.”

That’s what Steve does until the pizza arrives, a small smile gracing his lips as he talks. Occasionally he pauses, almost as if to see if Bucky is still paying attention, and then that little smile widens when he sees that Bucky _is_ , right before he leans in for a quick kiss.

They spend the night like that, cuddling and eating pizza while they watch _The Princess and the Frog_ , Steve talking about animation in hushed whispers while Bucky tells him about his favorite Disney movies. It’s a simple date, but it follows the pattern of it being one of the best dates Bucky’s been on in a while.

He wonders if that’s going to be a common thing when it comes to Steve, and hopes that he’s right.

“Want to watch something else?” Bucky asks when the credits start rolling, making no move to stop cuddling Steve.

They’ve gone from sitting on the couch as they ate to Bucky lying on his back with Steve snuggled up against his side, their legs tangled together. Bucky combs his fingers through Steve’s hair, smiling at the way it makes Steve hums and nuzzle against his chest.

“Maybe just one more?” Steve mumbles, rubbing his cheek against Bucky’s fleece sweater. “I should get going soon.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky says, dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Any preferences?”

Steve thinks for a little while, eyes far away, before he says, voice small and tentative, “Snow White?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, heart twisting painfully in his chest. He kisses Steve’s forehead once more, he holding Steve tight for a second before disentangling their bodies and getting up to put the new movie on.

Bucky knows this is a movie from Steve’s time, so he’s not surprised when Steve clutches at him as soon as he’s back on the couch, all eager hands and soft sighs. This time, Steve doesn’t speak as the movie plays, his gaze glued to the TV and hands tight around Bucky’s waist, holding on.

“I remember seeing this at the movies,” Steve whispers, not looking at Bucky, “back then. I snuck inside the theater, knowing my Ma would beat me bloody if I got caught. It was… it was beautiful, Buck, to see art moving like that. Like nothing else.”

Bucky swallows around a lump in his throat, hand sliding up and down Steve’s back in soothing motions. “Musta been something,” is all Bucky can think to say, words inadequate in his mouth.

“It was.” Steve smiles a little, sad and hurt. “Kinda made me wish I could’ve, well… it doesn’t matter now.”

Bucky bites down on his bottom lip, having a pretty good idea of what Steve meant to say. A long forgotten dream he almost shared.

It’s no secret Captain America is an artist. Some of his old drawings sit in exhibits, encased by goblin glass and covered with protective charms, for the entire world to see. An old sketch of a small Brooklyn apartment, a monkey on a unicycle, small houses in ruins.

“You can still… you know,” Bucky tries, not liking the way Steve tenses under his hand. “You don’t have to let that go.”

“I did it a long time ago, Buck.” Steve voice is low but hard. “Saving the world is more important than drawing pretty things.”

Bucky brings his hand up to curl on the back of Steve’s neck, squeezing a little. “It can still be a part of your life, though.”

“It is,” Steve answers, propping his chin on Bucky’s chest so they can face each other. “I draw sometimes, during my down time. It’s just not my whole life.”

“Superheroing is your whole life.” Bucky frowns, the words not really sitting right with him.

“A big part of it, yeah, but not all of it.” Steve kisses the dimple on Bucky’s chin, looking a little less sad than he did just a minute before. “I also volunteer at the VA with Sam, Nat and I knit stuff for homeless shelters, Clint is trying to teach me how to shoot an arrow, and I even let Tony convince me to be part of his… guild or whatever he calls it.”

Bucky blinks, mouth dropping open. “The Black Widow can knit?”

Steve grins, sharp and wicked. “She’s very good at spinning webs.”

Bucky makes a face at Steve, booping him on the nose. “You think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious, that’s why you’re dating me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but smiles when Steve tilts his head up for a kiss. “Sure thing, Stevie. Keep telling yourself that.”

Steve nips at his bottom lip, then kisses away the hurt. “I will,” he says, a little breathless, cheeks slightly pink. “The point is, that life is not for me anymore. It never really was. Sure, in a perfect world I would’ve gone on to make a career at Disney, but I also wouldn’t have been born sick.“

“Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, resting their foreheads together.

“It’s not some big dream that haunts me, Buck,” Steve says, breath ghosting over Bucky’s lips. “It makes me sad, sometimes, that I never got to live that life, but I don’t regret it.”

“You sure?” Bucky asks, stomach in knots.

“I am,” Steve says, and then kisses him, deep and sweet. “Very sure.”

“If you ever do want to do that, though? Become a big Disney animator,” Bucky starts, nuzzling their noses together, “just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, lips curling up into a smile. “ _You_ ’ll make it happen? Really?”

“Yup.” Bucky nods. “Because I totally have that power. I make wishes come true.”

Steve’s face softens, eyes burning in the low light of Bucky’s living room. He kisses Bucky on the lips, once, twice, three times, and whispers, heart in his words, “Yes, you do.”

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of spiderwebs that night.

He dreams of being stuck, silk strings catching at his legs and arms, trapping him in place. He dreams of black spiders with knives in the place of their legs, sharp and glinting and deadly.

Bucky dreams of spiderwebs that night. He wakes up drenched in sweat, Steve’s words about Natasha echoing in his head.

 

**

 

Bucky can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles deep in his stomach as he goes to work on Thursday. He knows something is going to happen — something to do with the _Black Widow_ , if he’s interpreting his dream correctly —, and he’s not really looking forward to it.

Bucky might think the Black Widow is a badass, but he’s also _terrified_ of her.

Not much is known about Romanoff, including what kind of creature she is, but all agree she is deadly. Bucky loves his life, and he does not wish to part with it. Especially now that he’s found Steve to share things with.

Kind of sappy of him, yes, but true. Steve is his soulmate, and Bucky doesn’t want to die a horrible death at the hands of one of Steve’s best friends and make him sad.

Bucky spends the entire day staring over his shoulder, jumpy and alert and entirely too worried about what’s going to happen. His dream hangs like a very dark and scary cloud over his head, as if waiting for the right moment to strike him with lightning and fuck him up.

So of course when something _does_ happen, Bucky is totally unprepared for it.

“Here.” Kamala hands him a chart, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Room 28, Natalie Rushman. She has a sprained ankle that needs a splint.”

Bucky frowns at her. “Why can’t you do it?”

Kamala leans in and whispers, “I really have to pee.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and snorts out a laugh, shooing Kamala away. “Go before you explode.”

Kamala kisses his cheek and practically runs through the hallway, leaving Bucky to make his way to room 28.

Bucky’s eyes are on the chart as he pushes the door open to the door, letting it close softly behind him. “Ms. Rushman, I’m Nurse Barnes, I’m here to fix that splint for you, and then you should be free to go.”

“Sam and Wanda are right, you really are cute.”

“Wha—” Bucky’s head snaps up, eyes widening as he takes in the petite redhead sitting on the bed, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders and her lips curled up in an amused smile. “Oh my god.”

Natasha Romanoff, _not_ Natalie Rushman, raises an eyebrow at him. “I prefer Natasha, actually.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky says again, this time more of a groan than a gasp. “You’re the one Steve gets all of his lame jokes from.”

Natasha’s face goes carefully blank at that, and Bucky’s mind flashes to his dream — him, stuck in a spider’s web; him, dying a horrible and painful death. He clutches his chart to his chest, as if a flimsy piece of plastic will do anything to stop the Black Widow from annihilating him because he made fun of her jokes.

Someone could knock Bucky over with a feather when Natasha’s impassive mask transforms into one of amusement again, her lips curling at the corners.

“Yes,” she says, sounding rather pleased with herself. “That’s me.”

Bucky blinks at her, grip going limp around the chart, his stomach dropping so hard in relief he thinks he’s going to pass the fuck out. “I’m Bucky,” is all he can think of say, even though he’s a hundred percent sure she knows that already.

“James Barnes.” Natasha nods, eyes glinting. “Steve’s told me a lot about you.”

“He has?” Bucky blurts out, unable to help himself. He can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks a second later, embarrassment making him want to slap himself a little. “I mean, nevermind.”

Natasha outright smiles at that, small and like she’s having the greatest time of her life. Bucky kind of wishes she would kill him, after all, if only to spare him from making more of a fool of himself.

“He has,” Natasha answers anyway, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward a little. “You’re all he talks about. His _soulmate_.”

Right, of course Natasha knows about all of that. She’s probably one of the people who helped Steve research about fate and souls and visions. Bucky ignores the way his heart dances in his chest, but he’s sure his blush deepens. He’s also sure Natasha is cataloguing each and every one of his reactions.

“Oh,” Bucky says, softer than he meant to.

“As Steve’s friend, I thought I should introduce myself.”

Bucky tenses a little at that, deliberately lowering the chart he still has clutched to his chest. In answer, Natasha goes still in her seat, expression veiled as her eyes bore into Bucky.

“Well,” Bucky starts, trying his best to keep his voice level, “as Steve’s friend, I think Steve should’ve been the one to do the introductions. You know, when he’s comfortable with me meeting his closest friends.”

Natasha stares at him for a beat too long before she lets herself smile again. It’s a different smile this time, more genuine, softer instead of amused. “That is a very good point,” she concedes.

Bucky preens a little, because he knows he’s doing the right thing. He knows he wouldn’t like Becca doing something like that, ambushing Steve somewhere because she thinks she needs to vet him or something. He’s sure Natasha has good intentions, but her doing what she thinks is best doesn’t mean she’s doing what is best for Steve.

“Okay,” Bucky says, feeling a little out of place again. “Good.”

“But you should know,” Natasha starts, and Bucky feel horribly like prey again, “that I am also Steve’s teammate. It’s my job to have his back and make sure he’s safe.”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be grateful or offended, so he goes a little bit for both. “I’m glad you’re looking out for him, but I’d never hurt Steve.”

Bucky would rather chew his own arm off first. He knows people screw up sometimes; that’s part of human life, but he’d never do anything intentionally hurtful to Steve. It makes him sick to his stomach to even consider it.

“I believe you,” Natasha says after a moment of consideration, her eyes flitting over Bucky’s downturned lips to his tense shoulders to the tight grip he has on her chart.

Bucky lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, nodding a little. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Natasha repeats. “It was nice meeting you, James.”

“Bucky,” he corrects her, frowning at her. “But what about your sprained ankle?”

Natasha hops off the bed, feet planting firmly on the tiled floor. “What sprained ankle?” she asks, voice light and teasing, and walks past Bucky, disappearing without another word.

 

**

 

Bucky grabs his phone as soon as he can catch a break, hiding in one of the supply closets before Claire finds him and saddles him with changing bed pans. He’s a lot calmer now than he was at the beginning of his shift, but his shoulders feel sore from holding all that tension this morning, and he can feel a sharp pain behind his eyes signaling the beginning of a headache.

All in all, that’s a better outcome he hoped for when meeting the Black Widow.

 

**Bucky [2:07PM]:**

_So a little Spider paid me a visit today_

 

Bucky isn’t expecting his phone to ring when he shoots off that text, the screen flashing with Steve’s name, so he fumbles a little before he accepts the call. He barely manages to say ‘hi’ before Steve talks over him, rushing and worried and breathless.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m fine,” he says. “Totally, one hundred percent fine.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, voice thick with concern.

“I am,” Bucky promises, wanting to reach through the phone and hug his boyfriend. “Natasha is scary as fuck, though.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Steve answers, miserable. “I’ll talk to her, I promise. My friends shouldn’t be ambushing you at work. Or anywhere else, really.”

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs, “I kind of agree with you, but you don’t have to do that for my sake. I know she was just worried about you and trying to be a good friend.”

“I know, but still. You do important stuff, Buck. You shouldn’t have to worry about my friends popping up to… to check you out or something, when you gotta be helping other people.”

“You’re right. I was caught off guard today, but I’m a big guy and can tell them that myself if I have to.” Bucky worries at his bottom lip, tone gentle when he adds, “But if Natasha crossed one of your boundaries today, you should talk to her about it.”

“I will,” Steve says, and then sighs. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“Not your fault.” Bucky shakes his head, even though Steve can’t see him. “No need to apologize to me, doll.” There is only thick silence from the other end, and Bucky’s brain catches up to his mouth. Bucky’s eyes widen as he mouths _doll_ to himself, wincing at Steve’s lack of response. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t,” Steve interrupts him, firm and a little teasing. “I don’t mind. It’s… I really don’t mind.”

A slow grin spreads across Bucky’s face, bright and giddy. “Yeah?”

Steve coughs, obviously trying to cover his reaction to the pet name. “Yeah.”

Bucky laughs, filing that little bit of information for later. “I’m glad.”

“Good,” Steve clears his throat. “Uh, talk to you soon?”

“Definitely,” Bucky agrees, and can’t help but add, “see you later, doll.”

And if Bucky spends the rest of his shift smiling, well, no one has to know.

 

**

 

Bucky grins when he sees Steve in front of _Cafae_ , brows furrowed as he stares down at his phone. Bucky thinks of sneaking up on him, but knowing Steve’s history, he dismisses the idea. He doesn’t want to fuck up this date before it even starts.

“Hey, hot stuff!” Bucky calls, lips forming a smile. Steve snaps his head up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, but so does the demon standing a few steps next to him. “Not you,” Bucky tells the demon, who rolls his red eyes at Bucky before stomping away. Bucky comes to a stop in front of Steve, grinning at him. “I mean _you_.”

Steve’s shoulders shake with laughter as he leans in for a kiss, nose bumping against Bucky’s. “Hi.”

“Sorry about that,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s mouth, pecking him on the lips again before pulling back.

“‘S fine. It was funny.”

“I aim to please.” Bucky bats his lashes, getting another laugh from Steve. “Ready to go in?” he asks, glancing down at the phone Steve is still clutching in his hand.

“Yeah, I was just texting Sam.”

“Is everything okay with him?” Bucky asks as he pushes the door open and steps inside, breathing in deep the scent of coffee and baked goods.

“Kind of,” Steve replies, lips twitching up in a smirk.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, leading Steve to the counter. “There’s a story there.”

“There is.” Steve nods, eyes glinting in amusement. “Sam found himself an admirer.”

Bucky perks up, interested. “Oooh, do tell.”

“He’s a panther shifter,” Steve gossips, stopping in life with Bucky to place their orders. “ _And_ he’s a King.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open in shock. “Are you fucking kidding me? A _King_?”

“Yup.” Steve grins, obviously enjoying himself. “His name’s T’Challa. We met him a few months ago when they sent the Avengers on a diplomatic mission to Wakanda. That’s his country. Let’s just say he took a liking to Sam.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispers, delighted. “What does Sam think about this?”

“He’s conflicted,” Steve confides. “He texted me for some advice just now.”

“What did you tell him?”

“To follow his heart,” Steve sniffs, sounding so proud of himself that Bucky can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sure he loved that.”

Steve shrugs, expressions softening when he says, “It worked for me.”

Bucky bumps his hip against Steve’s, his cheeks flushing in pleasure. They pause the conversation to place their orders — a caramel latte for Bucky, a regular black coffee for Steve, and blueberry muffins for both of them — before making their way to an empty table near the back of the shop. Steve takes the chair with a view of the whole place, and Bucky flops down in front of him, their feet knocking together under the table.

“So,” Steve starts, trapping Bucky’s feet between his ankles, his eyes falling to his coffee mug. “I talked to Nat.”

“Yeah? You okay?”

Steve shrugs, lifting a hand and running it through his hair. It makes it stick out everywhere, a few soft blond strands falling over his forehead. “I am. I mean, it wasn’t fun talking to her about it.”

Bucky’s lips twist. “I can imagine.”

Bucky’s only met her once, but Natasha Romanoff is _scary_.

“But she’s my friend,” Steve continues. “It’s important that we respect each other’s boundaries. She understands not to do anything like that again.”

“That’s good.” Bucky reaches out and takes one of Steve’s hands on his, squeezing it a little. “And I’m sure she only did that because she cares about you.”

Steve makes a face, wrinkling his nose. “I know, but that doesn’t really help.”

Bucky snorts, “I know.”

He’s very well-acquainted with people doing unwelcome things for him in the name of love and friendship. And by people, he mostly means his Ma.

“You don’t have to worry about any more of my friends ambushing you at work,” Steve tells him, picking Bucky’s hand up and kissing his knuckles. “They’ve been _warned_.”

Bucky’s stomach flips at the touch of Steve’s soft and warm lips against his skin. “What did you threaten them with?”

Steve smirks, a slow curl of lips, eyes glinting. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out.”

Bucky laughs, flicking Steve on the nose before pulling his hand back. “Because that’s not worrying _at all_. I won’t have to break you out of jail, will I?”

“Not for this, no.” Steve grins, taking a sip of drink.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Bucky shakes his head, breaking a piece off his muffin and popping it into his mouth. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to bring something up.”

“Shoot.”

“What are you doing on Thanksgiving?” Bucky asks, still eating his muffin.

He doesn’t really have plans to invite Steve over for the annual Barnes Thanksgiving Bash, but he’s curious. It’s too soon for him to spring his entire family on Steve like that, especially when not even his parents know who Steve really is. Still, Bucky wants to know. He very much doubts Steve will be spending it alone, but it doesn’t hurt to check.

“I’m letting Sam kidnap me,” Steve answers, his bright smile at odds with his words. “I have a standing invitation to spend the holidays with his family, if I want to.” Steve leans in close, whispering, “I always want to. His Ma is a helluva cook.”

Bucky laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Captain America, glutton.”

“Fuck yeah.” Steve nods sharply. “Could’ve worked my ass off for months back when I was young and still wouldna come up with enough money to buy even a tenth of the food I can have now. If Mrs. Wilson wants me over for Thanksgiving to eat five different pies? Well, I’m damn well gonna do it.”

Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest at Steve’s casual mention of the past. He knows it couldn’t have been easy, growing up in the Depression. He’s heard stories from his Pops, of saving every penny he could get, of eating boiled cabbage for a week, of wearing newspaper in his shoes to make them fit. For Steve, all of that would’ve been worse, with him sick on top of it.

“Five pies?” Bucky asks, deciding to focus on something else. “Really, Stevie?”

“I’m a growing boy,” Steve sniffs, and then purposefully flexes, muscles straining under his clothes.

Bucky’s mouth goes a little dry at that, eyes glazed over. “If you grow anymore, you’re gonna bust out of that shirt,” he says, voice a little faint.

“Like you wouldn’t like that,” Steve teases, flushing a little.

“Shuddup,” Bucky mumbles, an answering blush tinging his cheeks. He grabs his mug in an effort to keep himself from saying anything else, taking a sip of his caramel latte. “Gah,” Bucky coughs, lips twisting in disgust. “Cold. Gross.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, extending a hand. “Give it to me.”

“I’m not letting you drink cold coffee,” Bucky protests, scandalized.

“I’m not going to,” Steve says calmly, hand still reaching for Bucky. “C’mon.”

Bucky hands him the mug, watching as Steve cups it between his palms. A second later, Bucky feels the familiar heat of Steve’s fire hit him, warm waves surrounding him.

“You didn’t,” Bucky whispers, a little pleased smile gracing his lips.

Steve shrugs, handing Bucky back his mug. “‘S not like it was hard.”

And it wouldn’t be, for a firestarter of Steve’s caliber.

Bucky breathes out a laugh, grabbing his now warm mug and bringing it to his lips. The drink is pleasantly warm again, heating Bucky up from the inside out.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmurs, and at Steve’s wave of dismissal he leans across the table, dropping a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “Really, doll. Thanks.”

Steve’s blush deepens, coloring his cheeks and the back of his neck. “Shut up and drink your latte,” he says, ankles squeezing Bucky’s feet under the table.

Bucky smiles at him, wide and bright, and does as he’s told.

 

**

 

Thanksgiving weekend arrives in a flurry of pies, Barneses, and Bucky coming out of a 12-hour shift.

Bucky goes straight to his parents’ home, passing out on his old childhood bed, not even bothering to shower. He wakes up what could be ten hours or two years later, pillow imprints on his cheek, his mouth tasting like spoiled milk, and Becca lying down next to him.

“Ugh,” Bucky groans, pulling his blanket up to his chin.

“You drool when you’re asleep,” Becca informs him, poking him in the forehead.

“You’re drool,” Bucky snarks back, too tired to think of a good comeback.

“It’s a miracle you even have a soulmate,” Becca tsks. “You’re gross.”

“Why are you here, then?” Bucky asks, wiping the bit of drool on the corner of his mouth with his blanket.

“Promise not to tell?” Becca asks, extending a pinky to Bucky.

Bucky hooks his pinky against Becca’s, saying, “Promise.”

The little spark of magic reserved for pinky promises washes over them, biding Bucky to his words. Breaking pinky promises means breaking your pinky, and Bucky is not willing to risk it.

“I’m hiding from Grandma,” Becca murmurs, making Bucky laugh.

“She trying to get you to come live with her again?”

“Yes,” Becca sulks, “for the summer. I told her I have other plans, but she—”

“Pretends she can’t hear you, yes,” Bucky finishes, grinning a little. Their Grandma thinks their Ma is lax on their education, and she desperately wants to fix that. Nevermind that Grandma’s idea of classes is teaching them how to weave curses, and neither of them have talent for magic. “That’ll stop once you hit thirty.”

According to their Grandma, that means they’re past their prime. Bucky’s been free of Grandma’s plans to make him a powerful wizard since about three years ago, and he’s very happy about that.

“I should just tell her I’m off to join the fae past the veil,” Becca sighs, long-suffering, “to live my remaining years as one of their pets.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose at that, unhappy about the thought. “You know that just means she’ll try to marry you off to fae royalty instead.”

Becca groans, flopping around a little for effect. “Why can’t Grandma be disappointed in us?”

“She has high expectations for her grandchildren,” Bucky says.

“As long as we do what she wants, I know.”

“Want me to casually mention my soulmate during dinner so she’ll forget all about you?” Bucky offers. As much as he’ll hate doing that, he’s willing to take this bullet for Becca.

Becca narrows her eyes at him, knowing Bucky’s generosity will not come without a price. “What would I owe you?”

Bucky bites down on his bottom lip, figuring this is the time for him to take a chance. He’s been meaning to tell someone about Steve being his soulmate — or at least someone other than the ghost of his dead great-grandfather. Becca seems like a good option, especially when he’s sure he can buy her secrecy.

“You’d have to keep a secret for me,” Bucky informs her, pressing his lips together when Becca’s expression twists.

“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” Becca asks. “Because I want to run for president at some point, and I can’t do that if I have to help you hide a body.”

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna ask you to help me cover up murder,” he says, and then adds, “we both know Ma would be the one to go to for that.”

“Okay.” Becca nods. “I’ll keep your secret if you get Grandma to back off from trying to mold me into her ideal granddaughter.”

“Promise?” Bucky asks, giving Becca his pinky.

Becca smiles at him, small and sweet. “Promise,” she says, hooking their pinkies together and letting the magic wash over them.

 

**

 

Thanksgiving with the Barneses is always an Event. This year isn’t any different. Bucky’s parents are hosting, bringing both sides of the family together in a dinner that promises fights, drunken singing, and a little bit of magical shenanigans.

That’s what one gets when they bring witches and psychics together. Bucky just hopes no one gets turned into a turkey this year.

“Uncle Bucket,” Matt says, tugging at Bucky’s jeans. He’s only two, the youngest son to one of Bucky’s older cousins from his dad’s side of the family, and he hasn’t gotten the handle of saying _Bucky_ just yet. “Up, please?”

“Sure thing, bug,” Bucky says, hosting Matt up and perching him on his hip. Matt clutches at the collar of Bucky’s sweater, his other hand going around Bucky’s neck. “Wanna go see what they’re doing in the kitchen?”

Matt nods, bouncing a little in Bucky’s arms. There are children running around the house, aunts and uncles watching TV, cousins by the alcohol cabinet filling their glasses. The kitchen is full of people and food, with Bucky’s dad and Uncle Dan taking care of the turkey, while Bucky’s Ma and a few of his cousins make sure there are enough pies for everyone.

Bucky almost laughs when he sees Becca, cornered by their Grandma between the fridge and the wall, his lips pressed so tight together they’re white. She shoots Bucky a look when she sees him, both pleading and angry.

Bucky remembers their promise, and braces himself.

Before he can say anything to save his sister, Matt bends down letting go of Bucky’s collar so he can reach the counter, almost slipping out of Bucky’s hold.

“Matt!” Bucky gasps, securing his grip. He doesn’t have time to stop Matt’s little grabby hands from burying themselves into one of the pies, though, coming away with bits of apple and cinnamon.

“Aha!” Matt exclaims, and then promptly stuffs his hands into his mouth.

There is a second of shocked silence before everyone bursts into laughter, Bucky’s Grandma going as far as grabbing her phone and snapping a picture of them.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Andrea, Bucky’s cousin and Matt’s mom, says, shaking her head as he reaches them. She takes Matt from Bucky, tickling Matt under his chin. “Did you have a dream, sweetie? Did you _aha_?”

“Aha!” Matt says again, smiling brightly, mouth sticky with pie. “ _Aha_! dream. Pie!”

Bucky is unable to keep a smile off his face as the pieces fall together, understanding dawning. “He had a glimpse, huh?”

Andrea nods, kissing Matt on the head. “They started a few months ago,” she says. “We’ve been calling them _aha!_ dreams, so it’s easier for him to understand.”

“Sounds about right,” Bucky tells her. He doesn’t know when his own glimpses started, and he can’t remember a life without them. Matt is a Barnes, and so the curse runs through the bloodline.

“Speaking of glimpses,” Bucky’s Ma says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “how’s your soulmate, James?”

Bucky glances at his Grandma, watching as she abandons Becca and focus all of her attention on him. With that, Becca manages to slink away, mouthing a ‘ _thank you_ ’ before she disappears to the living room. Bucky can’t even be mad she left him alone to deal with the eager eyes of half of their family.

“He’s fine,” Bucky says, because he knows it to be true. He got a message from Steve a few hours ago, nothing but a picture of six different pies with a heart eyes emoji underneath. He knows Steve is having a good Thanksgiving with Sam’s family, and he’s happy for that.

Even though Bucky misses him like hell.

“That’s it?” Grandma asks him, bracelets clinking together as she walks up to him. “That’s all you have to say?”

Bucky shrugs. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Grandma opens her mouth to say something else, but Bucky’s dad interrupts, “Dinner’s ready. Why don’t we all go sit down.”

Bucky stays in the kitchen, waiting until it’s just his parents and him. “We’re good,” he murmurs, smiling a little. “Steve and I. We’re really good.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky’s Ma says, cupping his cheek in one hand and kissing his forehead. “And James, whenever you want to bring him over, just say the word.”

“Soon,” Bucky tells her, because he also knows that to be true.

“Soon,” his dad echoes, and together they go join the family.

 

**

 

Bucky flops down on his bed, tummy hurting from eating too much. He groans pitifully when Becca lies down next to him, one of her pointy elbows jabbing him in the gut.

“Sorry,” Becca says, patting him on the head in apology.

“‘S okay,” Bucky sighs, basking in the silence.

Thanksgiving was as he thought it would be: lots of laughter, prying questions from his Grandma, kids running around, and a few incidents with magic. No one got turned into an animal this time, but Winifred had to threaten to throw her little brothers out when they started making the salad fly around the room.

“So,” Becca starts, poking Bucky on the cheek when he stays quiet, “Tell me.”

Bucky takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He turns so he’s on his side, facing his little sister. “You really have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Becca stares at him for a few seconds, eyes searching Bucky’s face. Whatever she finds there is enough to make her prop herself on an elbow, her fingers crossing an X over her heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Bucky pulls her down into a hug. “You’re not all bad, you know that?”

“I’m the best sister you’ll ever have,” Becca snarks, pushing Bucky’s off of her. “Now tell me about your soulmate.”

“Well…” Bucky gulps, trying to find the courage in himself to let this secret out, “his name is Steve.”

Becca rolls her eyes at him. “I know that.”

“You don’t know that his last name is Rogers, though,” Bucky argues, words falling from his lips like they don’t mean anything.

“Steve Rogers?” Becca frowns. “Who is Ste—”

Bucky is glad he’s so close to Becca when the truth finally comes out, because there is nothing better than to see the way her mouth drops open and her eyes turn as round as saucers. Surprised is etched in every line of her face as she gapes at him, not knowing what to say. It even makes him a little less nervous about all of this.

“Did I break you?” Bucky asks, poking her on the nose.

Becca bats his hand away, mouth snapping shut with a click. “Your soulmate is Steve Rogers.”

“Yes.”

“Steve Rogers,” Becca repeats, blinking rapidly. “As in, Captain America Steve Rogers.”

“That’s the one,” Bucky says. Becca opens and closes her mouth a few times, words failing her. “You look like a dying fish when you do that,” Bucky comments, glad that at least his sister isn’t screaming at the top of her lungs.

“You look like a dying fish _all the time_ ,” Becca snaps back, and then sighs. “Oh my _god_.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Bucky reminds her, only to have Becca slap him on the arm.

“I’m not going to, Bucky.” Becca scrubs a hand over her face, surprising giving way to disappointment.

“What?” Bucky asks, frowning at her. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Becca, but her being disappointment was certainly not it. “What is it?”

“You’re not lame at all,” Becca complains, pouting a little.

Bucky snorts, relief that his sister is okay with this making him giddy. “I was never lame to begin with.”

“Yeah, but now you’re _soulmates with Captain America_.”

“No,” Bucky corrects her, “I’m soulmates with _Steve Rogers_.”

Becca blinks at him, and then her face softens with understanding. “Steve Rogers, huh?”

“Yup,” Bucky says, and then lets himself smile, bright and big and besotted.

“Is he cool?” Becca asks, nudging him with a hand.

“The coolest.”

“Did you see him use his powers?”

“He warmed up my coffee for me when it got cold once,” Bucky answers, the memory making him smile.

“Is he a good kisser?”

Bucky groans. “ _Becca_.”

“What?” Becca asks, grinning at him. “It’s vital information!”

“I’m not discussing this.”

“Okay.” Becca nods, and after a few seconds of silence she asks, “Is he good to you?”

Bucky swallows past a sudden lump in his throat, his voice nothing but a whisper when he says, “Yes, he is.”

“Good,” Becca says, just as quietly. “Or I’d have to kick his ass.”

Bucky laughs, happiness coursing through him. He doesn’t even complain when Becca accidentally elbows him in the stomach again, just hugs her tight once more before kicking her out of his room.


	3. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** for this chapter: explicit sex! and the story finally meets its original prompt of _"a sexy touch in an unsexy place."_ :D

Bucky sighs, leaning against the nurse’s station and flipping through pictures on his phone. It’s been a quiet shift, or as quiet as it can be when one’s a nurse. There have been no major accidents, no explosions, and no demon summonings, so Bucky’s counting this one as a success.

He sighs again, lips twitching up in a faint smile as he stares down at one of the last pictures Steve’s sent him. It’s from Thanksgiving, which Steve spent with the Wilsons, and it shows a huge table with about seven empty pie plates. Steve is sitting by said table, his soft red sweater rucked up and showing off his stomach, both of his hands holding his bare tummy. He’s slouched on the chair, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes. The caption reads a simple ‘ _death by pie.’_

What a dumb idiot.

“You’re being creepy again.”

Bucky almost drops his phone at the sound of Claire’s voice, only saving it from certain death at the last minute. He glares over his shoulder at her, cheeks flushing at being caught making heart eyes at his boyfriend.

“‘M not,” Bucky mumbles, locking his phone and sliding it back in his pocket.

He’s gonna have to wait to stare dreamily at Steve’s cute face. Bummer.

Claire smirks at him. “Missing your boy?”

“A little,” Bucky admits with some reluctance, because he doesn’t need to give Claire any ammunition.

If he’s being honest, he’s more than missing Steve.

It’s not unusual for them to spend a few days, if not more than a week, without seeing each other. Steve’s job doesn’t exactly keep office hours, and Bucky’s life as a nurse makes it almost impossible for them to keep any kind of a regular schedule.

They’re actually lucky they’ve managed to see each other and go on dates more often than not. Bucky wonders if it really is Fate intervening, helping soulmates along.

“When does he come back?” Claire asks, trading her pile of patient charts for another one.

“Tomorrow,” Bucky sighs yet another time, all kinds of unhappy.

“You work tomorrow.”

“Yup.”

Claire raises an eyebrow at him. “So I can expect you to make sad eyes at your phone for another day?”

“Yup.” Bucky nods. “But we’re seeing each other on Tuesday, so your suffering has an expiration date.”

“Great,” Claire deadpans, hip checking Bucky and pushing some charts his way. “Now come help me with this. You can stare at your boyfriend after you make sure Mr. Roland hasn’t tried to pull out his IV again.”

“Wonderful,” Bucky snarks, grabbing the charts from Claire and going back to work.

Working at the hospital is grueling and it can be all kinds of gross, but Bucky can’t deny that he loves every single moment of it.

Okay, maybe not every single moment.

Most of them, sure.

Being a nurse is rewarding in its own way, despite the lack of respect Bucky gets from some. He loves to help people, comfort them when he can, make a dreadful hospital stay a little bit better. He’s probably way more involved in some of his patients’ lives than he should be, but Bucky can never forget the nurse that offered him kindness when he was a little boy going through a hard time. So he works. He gets through his 12-hour shift, running around the hospital where he’s needed, taking hardly any breaks in between.

Bucky’s almost dead on his feet by the time he gets home, swaying in the shower as he washes off hospital gunk and the smell of disinfectant, before slipping into some comfy pajamas and heading to bed. He checks his phone before checking out and giving in to sleep, lips forming a tired smile as he sees his new messages.

 

**Steve <3 [4:25PM]**

_Hey Buck :D Just wanted to say hi and I hope you're having a good day :*_

**Steve <3 [5:03PM]**

_Oh and let me know when you’re free!! I wanna see you again_ ;)

 

Bucky does his best to type out a coherent reply, yawning as he goes.

 

**Bucky [1:29AM]**

_3-day break starts the day after tomorrow_

_Tuesday still works for you?_

 

Bucky’s not expecting a reply right away, so he’s a little surprised when he gets something back from Steve.

 

**Steve <3 [1:31AM]**

_It works :D see you then! Now go the fuck to sleep_

 

Bucky snorts, snapping a picture of himself in bed, all sleepy eyes and bird-nest hair and unicorn printed pajamas, and sends it to Steve. Steve will totally swoon. Bucky looks impossible to resist when he’s two-seconds away from falling into deep sleep.

Bucky checks the rest of his texts, stopping on the ones he got from Becca a few hours ago.

 

**Becca [7:34PM]**

_so when do u plan on telling mom and dad about steve????_

_also when you do can i be there_

_with my phone_

_to film what happens_

_u know for science and my own amusement_

 

Bucky’s insides go a little cold at that. Despite telling Becca about who Steve really is and getting nothing but support — and dumb texts — from her, which has been a relief, there’s no telling how his parents will react. He does plan on telling them soon, though, he just doesn’t know how.

There’s also the small fact that Bucky needs to tell _Steve_ that he told Becca about him. Steve’s been very upfront about letting Bucky deal with his family the way he thinks best, but he should still be informed. Bucky did promise not to keep things from Steve since the whole soulmate reveal thing, and he plans to keep that promise.

As it stands, Bucky’s too tired to figure out what to do now. He shoots a quick ‘ _Don’t u dare_ ’ to Becca before placing his phone on his nightstand, pulling his blankets up to his chin, and going the fuck to sleep.

 

**

 

Bucky dreams about dancing rugs.

They are soft and furry and energetic, all in different colors and sizes. They wrap themselves around him and then twirl away again, over and over and over, as Dolly Parton’s _Cracker Jack_ plays in the background.

Bucky dreams about dancing rugs, and wakes up with the perfect plan to tell Steve about Becca.

 

**

 

Bucky grins when he sees Steve, skipping the final steps of his front building and practically running up to his boyfriend. They haven’t seen each other since their last coffee date, both busy with Thanksgiving and then Bucky having to work.

Steve laughs and opens his arms as Bucky throws himself at him, hugging Bucky tight and almost lifting his feet off the ground. Bucky laughs against Steve’s shoulder, closing his eyes and basking in the warmth of him.

Bucky missed him, so what?

“I take it you’re happy to see me?” Steve teases, dropping a kiss to the side of Bucky’s head.

Bucky squeezes Steve again, just because he can. “No. I’m just trying to steal your wallet.”

Steve barks out a laugh, loosening his hold so they’re staring at each other. “Of course you are.”

Bucky leans in and nuzzles their noses together, humming when Steve closes the distance between them and captures his lips in a kiss. Bucky sighs into it, melting in Steve’s arms, lips moving together as they kiss.

“Hi,” Bucky whispers when they break apart, hands resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve smiles, soft and fond. “Hey.”

Bucky kisses him again, short and sweet, before groping Steve’s pecs a little. “So this is where all the pie went, huh?”

Bucky is hit with a wave of heat so strong it makes him reel back, mouth dropping open as he stares at Steve. Steve’s entire face is flushed red, pale skin tinged pink all the way down to his neck.

“Shuddup,” Steve mumbles, avoiding Bucky’s gaze and looking all kinds of embarrassed.

Bucky starts sweating a little under his sweater and coat, but his lips curl up in a small smile while he makes a mental note about Steve’s reaction to his touch. He leans in for another kiss, slow and scorching hot, and doesn’t suppress a shiver when Steve gives as good as he gets.

“I like it,” Bucky admits, tapping his fingers over Steve’s chest. “Just so you know.”

Bucky more than likes it, really, but this is not the time and place for him to show his appreciation for Steve’s pecs.

Steve makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, dropping his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. The heat enveloping them lowers a little, and Bucky is thankful for the chill December breeze as it helps with cooling them down.

Bucky kisses the shell of Steve’s ear, letting himself be held. They sway a little in place, ignoring the people and other beings that walk past them on the street. It’s a few minutes until Steve takes a deep breath, kisses Bucky’s neck, and pulls back, skin almost back to its usual color.

“So,” Steve clears his throat, hands clutching at Bucky’s waist, “where are we going?”

“To heaven on Earth,” Bucky states proudly, grabbing Steve by the hand and tugging him along.

Steve falls into step beside him, brows furrowed and a suspicious look on his face. “You’re not taking me to a strip club, are you?”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, bringing Steve’s arm around his shoulder and bumping him with his hip. “No, I’m not.”

“Alright,” Steve says slowly, pulling Bucky closer to him. “Then is it a bakery?”

“Nope,” Bucky pops out the word. “It’s a surprise.”

Steve presses his lips together, his arm tensing over Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m not… very good with surprises.”

“Hey.” Bucky stops walking, hands sliding up and down Steve’s arms in a soothing gesture. “I can absolutely tell you where we’re going if you want me to, but I promise it’s not anywhere crowded. Or filled with family members and friends. Or where you’ll have to talk to other people besides me.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh, worrying at his bottom lip. “Can you give me a hint?”

“Dogs,” Bucky answers, knowing he about just ruined the surprise. It’s better than having Steve feel tense the entire way there, though.

Steve lights up at the mention of dogs, eyes glowing bright. “Yeah?” he practically bounces in place, a smile stretching on his lips. “As in, plural?”

“Yup.” Bucky grins, charmed by Steve’s excitement. “Do you want me to tell you more?”

“Nope.” Steve shakes his head. “I’m good. Just lead the way.”

Bucky kisses his cheek and does as he’s told. They walk hand in hand through the busy streets, talking about anything and everything that crosses their minds. It’s about fifteen minutes until they reach BARC Shelter, and Steve’s smile is so wide it must hurt his cheeks.

“Barnes.”

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky waves as they step inside, coming up to the reception desk. “I brought my boyfriend along today. Hope you don’t mind.”

Frank barely glances at Steve before he picks up a form and pushes it into his chest, grumbling out, “Photo ID. Fill this out. No volunteering if I don’t know who you are. Gotta protect the dogs.”

“Yes, sir.” Steve nods, scanning the papers. He’s got his Serious Business face on, all clenched jaw and tight mouth, his brows furrowed as he reads.

Bucky runs a hand over Steve’s hair and smiles when Steve leans into the touch, and then turns his attention back to Frank. “Is Cheddar here today?”

Cheddar is a floppy eared corgi that Bucky desperately wants to take home, but he knows the dog deserves someone who has more time on their hands to take care of him. Bucky’s going to be absolutely heartbroken when Cheddar gets adopted, but for now they can have this.

“Yes,” Frank answers. “Hasn’t gone on his walk yet.”

“Can we—”

“As long as your boy checks out, yes.”

“He’ll check out,” Bucky says with absolute confidence.

Steve _is_ Captain America, after all. If he’s trusted to save the world when there’s trouble, he can definitely handle walking a small dog around a few blocks.

“We’ll see,” Frank says, lips twitching into a smile.

“Here you go.” Steve gets up and hands Frank the forms, along with his ID. He’s practically vibrating in place as Frank goes over his details, so Bucky tangles their fingers together and gives Steve’s hand a squeeze.

“Alright.” Frank nods, gesturing his head to the door behind the reception desk. “Barnes, you know the drill.”

“Thanks.” Bucky tugs on Steve’s hand, leading him past the reception area and further into the room. He can feel Steve’s excitement with the way he keeps swinging their hands between them, his palm rough and hot to the touch. “Ready?” Bucky asks, grinning when Steve crowds against him and practically pushes him through the door.

“I was born ready,” Steve states, and when Bucky doesn’t move he whines, “C’mon, Buck, let me see the dogs.”

Bucky laughs and leads Steve inside, melting at the absolute joy on Steve’s face when he steps into the room. A few of the rescues rush to them, jumping on their legs and licking their hands, barking in excitement.

“Hi, dogs.” Steve drops to the floor right then and there, beaming as bright as the sun and petting as many dogs as he can. “I’m Steve.”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, watching in amusement as his boyfriend lets the dogs climb all over him, his face the picture of bliss. “I’ve been replaced.”

“Yup.” Steve nods, scrunching up his face in a laugh when an overeager corgi licks his cheek. “Sorry, Bucky, but dogs own my heart.”

  


“At least I don’t have to worry about you becoming a cat lady,” Bucky sighs, kneeling down so he can get some dog cuddles.

“Excuse you,” Steve sniffs, giving a belly rub to the husky that flops down on his lap, “I don’t discriminate.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good to know.”

“Are you done slobbering all over the dogs?”

Bucky looks up, meeting the unimpressed gaze aimed his way. “It’s good to see you too, Kate.”

“Barnes.” Kate nods, her bangs falling over her eyes before she blows them away. She steals a glance at Steve, eyebrows raising. “Barnes’ boyfriend.”

Steve blinks up at Kate, surprising flashing across his face before it turns into smugness. “That’s me,” he says, cuddling a chihuahua to his chest. “Steve, Bucky’s boyfriend.”

Blood rushes to Bucky’s cheeks at the pleasure behind Steve’s tone, and he can’t help but lean in against Steve’s side, their shoulders pressed together. He understands, though. Steve is used to another title always attached to his name, so the novelty of not being called Captain America must be nice.

Here he’s just Steve, Bucky’s boyfriend.

“You two here for…” Kate trails off, making walking motions down her leg with two of her fingers.

“Yup. Though I’m not sure Steve is ready to let go just yet.” Bucky pointedly glances at Steve, who’s trying to cuddle and pet four different dogs that have settled on his lap.

“I’m fine,” Steve says, dropping kisses to the dogs heads. “I can totally let go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, lips curling up at the corners. “Can you get Cheddar for us?”

“Yeah, just make sure your boyfriend doesn’t start crying when you have to leave,” Kate warns him, stepping away.

Bucky shakes his head at her before turning to Steve. “So this was a good surprise.”

“The best surprise,” Steve corrects him, and then starts cooing at the bulldog who noses her way to him, tongue lolling out as she pants. “Isn’t it, girl? Aren’t we happy? Yes, we are.”

It takes all of Bucky’s strength not to grab his phone and start filming when Steve starts baby-talking the dogs. This is probably the happiest he’s ever seen Steve, bright with joy and glowing with it.

Like, _literally_.

There’s a faint golden aura of warmth surrounding Steve, much like the afternoon sun on a hot summer day. It’s cozy and welcome, making him look even more like personified sunshine.

The dogs seems to like it, drawn to Steve with their little wiggly tails and tongues lolling out. Steve grins and opens his arms, gathering as many of them as he can, hands busy with petting and scratching.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky calls, heart flipping in his chest when Steve turns to him.

Steve’s smile is the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. It brightens and softens his whole face, the tilt of his lips wide and giddy. His blue eyes almost seem like they have an added heat to them, a low-burning kind of joy that awes.

It is only so devastating because Bucky knows Steve doesn’t smile like that very often; that kind of happiness isn’t a staple to Steve’s life, isn’t something he is used to.

“What, Buck?” Steve asks with a laugh, getting distracted when a three-legged German Shepherd trots up to him and flops down on his lap.

“You’re glowing,” Bucky says with a laugh of his own.

He reaches out a hand and places it lightly on Steve’s arm. Steve doesn’t feel any warmer than he usually does, so Bucky knows they aren’t in any kind of danger of burning the place down. The heat emanating from Steve doesn’t feel threatening, but the opposite: like a hot drink when you’re cold, a warm shower after a long day, and toasty-warm feet in fuzzy socks.

“What are you talk— _Oh_ ,” Steve stops when he looks down at Bucky’s hand on his arm, eyes going round in surprise. He blinks once, mouth snapping shut and brows furrowing as he stares at his hands, which are softly glowing as he pets the dogs. “Huh.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Bucky asks, fighting down the urge to cuddle up to Steve and flop down on his lap, much like Jack Russell Terrier nuzzling Steve’s stomach.

“Not really.” Steve tilts his head to the side, looking adorably confused. “It’s not hurting you, is it?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s kinda making me want to tackle you to the floor and take a nap on you, though.”

Steve chuckles, cheeks turning a soft pink. He glows again, a tiny little bright flash of light before he’s back to his usual self. Bucky still thinks he’s pure sunshine, but at least he isn’t sparkling.

“Well, there you go.” Steve shrugs his shoulders and flexes his hands, which only works to deepen the scratches he’s giving two of the dogs. “I’ll talk to Thor about it later.”

“You’re not worried?”

Steve shakes his head. “If you getting sleepy is the worst thing that happens when I glow, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You’re going to use this against me, aren’t you?” Bucky narrows his eyes at Steve, poking him once in the ribs. Steve doesn’t even yelp.

“I would never,” Steve gasps and then immediately makes a face when one of the dogs tries to lick his mouth.

Bucky is stopped from saying anything else by Kate coming back with Cheddar. Cheddar barks once and runs straight to Bucky, skidding and bumping into his lap. Bucky laughs and bends down to pick him up, cuddling Cheddar to his chest as he pets him all over.

“I missed you too, buddy,” Bucky says, voice muffled by Cheddar’s fur. “Has Kate been treating you okay?”

Cheddar barks again, head-butting Bucky in the chin.

“See?” Kate smirks. “I’m the best.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at her, although he knows that to be at least half-true. “Are we ready, then?” he turns to Steve instead, watching in amusement as Steve takes his time saying goodbye to every single dog and giving them extra pets.

“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” Steve tells them, eyes sad and lips turned down at the corners.

It’s still a few minutes before they strap a leash to Cheddar’s collar and say goodbye to Frank. Cheddar walks in front of them, fluffy little butt wiggling the entire time, stopping every once in a while to sniff at something.

“So,” Steve turns to Bucky, grip secure on Cheddar’s leash, “want to tell me why you did all of this?”

“I know how much you love dogs?” Bucky tries, hooking his arm through Steve’s and bumping their hips together.

Steve smiles a little, but remains unconvinced. “Besides that.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He can recognize that this isn’t really a big deal, but he can’t help feeling a little nervous about it.

“I wanted to do something nice,” Bucky starts, “because I kind of have news?”

“Is it bad news?” Steve frowns, posture going from relaxed to tense in a second.

“No! No, it isn’t bad,” Bucky reassures him, rubbing a hand up and down Steve’s bicep. He can feel Steve relax little by little next to him. “It’s just big news. Impacting news.”

“Mysterious news, with the way you’re going on about it,” Steve tries to tease, but Bucky can still hear the lingering concern in his tone.

Bucky kind of wants to smack himself, but instead he leans in and smacks a kiss to Steve’s cheek. And then decides to just go for it.

“I told Becca about you.”

Steve trips on his own feet. Bucky has to use the grip he has on Steve’s arm to keep him upright and even Cheddar trots back to them, nudging at Steve’s leg with his nose to check if he’s okay.

“I’m fine,” Steve is quick to answer, giving Cheddar a pet and Bucky’s hand a quick squeeze.

Bucky tries not to be jealous that Cheddar got Steve’s attention first, but then he has to admit that if it were him, he’d do the exact same thing. “You sure?” Bucky still asks, stomach churning.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Steve sighs, leaning his body against Bucky’s side. “You’re right. That is big and impacting news.”

“She was pretty cool about it,” Bucky offers, smiling a little when he remembers Becca’s reaction. “And she promised not to say anything until I’m ready to tell our parents.”

“Yeah?” Steve murmurs with a soft smile. “That’s nice of her.”

“She’s the best,” Bucky answers, throat a little tight. He’s lucky to have Becca as a sister. They might drive each other nuts sometimes, but there’s nothing they wouldn’t do for each other. “And this leads me to my next piece of news.”

“You want to tell your parents?” Steve guesses, stopping to let Cheddar sniff at a wall.

“Yes.” Bucky nods, voice shaking a little with nerves. “So, hear me out.”

“Okay?”

“Almost every Sunday we have this family tradition thing,” Bucky says. “We all have breakfast together at my parents’ house. It’s just a way for us to keep in touch and, well, for Ma to make sure we’re eatin’ right.”

Steve laughs. “Is that right?”

Bucky shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, although his cheeks blush a little. “Ma worries.”

“She sounds like an amazing lady,” Steve tells him.

“She is. But anyway,” Bucky continues, “I was thinking of telling her and Dad about you this weekend?”

Steve asks gently, “Are you asking me or are you telling me?”

Bucky swallows hard, but is determined when he answers, “I’m telling you. It’s… this is a big deal, but I want them to know. You’re important to me. All of you. So, I’m gonna do it.”

Steve turns so he can wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist. Bucky lets himself be pulled closer into the warmth of Steve’s body, head tilting up when Steve leans in to brush their lips together. It’s a sweet and chaste kiss, just a press of lips, but it’s enough to leave Bucky breathless.

“I trust you,” Steve says as he rests their foreheads together. “And I’m proud of you. And if you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Ma’s probably going to demand you come over for dinner,” Bucky warns him, heart feeling so full Bucky thinks he might burst. Or burst into song.

Steve grins, slow and happy, and kisses Bucky again. “That sounds great. You can tell her I’ll be there.”

“You don’t even know when it is,” Bucky tries to argue, even though he knows it’s a lost cause.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there.”

Bucky rubs their noses together. “They’re going to love you.”

Steve hugs him close, their cheeks squished together. “I’m sure the feeling will be mutual.”

Bucky squeezes him back and just hopes Steve is right.

 

**

 

“You can do this,” Bucky whispers to himself, heart in his throat. “You’re strong and brave. You’ve got this.”

The key to his parents’ house dangles between his fingers, the bright green dinosaur keychain mocking him with its toothy smile. All Bucky needs to do is fit the key into the lock, turn left, and head inside. To have breakfast with his parents. And tell them about his soulmate, Steve.

His soulmate, _Captain America_.

Bucky lowers his hand again, stomach twisting with nerves. Rationally, he knows everything is fine and that everything is going to _be_ fine. His parents are lovely people and all they want is for him to be happy and safe, two things which he most certainly is with Steve. But there’s a tiny part of Bucky’s brain that is running around with its pants on fire, screaming that the world is about to end.

“Oh my god,” Bucky mumbles to himself as he scrubs a hand over his face, accidentally hitting himself with his dinosaur in the process. “C’mon, Barnes. You help save people’s lives on a regular basis. This isn’t worse than that. It’s easier. It’s just your family. They won’t even try to hit you in the head with an IV pole.”

Bucky grips his keys tightly, once again raising his hand in the direction of the lock. He stops just as he’s about to push in before he gives up again, taking a step backwards and groaning at himself.

“Okay, I’m officially ashamed of myself,” Bucky declares, shifting on his feet. “You are not going to be defeated by made up expectations you think people have of you _and_ by your own anxiety. You can deal with this. Steve would say so, and Steve is always annoyingly right about things like this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, key in hand and in position, and braces himself to open the door and—

Bucky freezes in his place when the familiar tunes of _Hedwig’s Theme_ start coming from his pocket. He shuffles a little and grabs his phone, blinking in surprise when the name that flashes across his screen indicates his Ma is the one calling.

Bucky tentatively puts the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he answers, voice shaky and a little bit squeaky.

His Ma has a knack for knowing when Bucky is being a fool, and he’s sure she somehow knows about his internal dilemma. When she answers him, he finds out he’s right.

“Since you’re standing outside arguing with yourself, do you think you can go over to _Sword & Scone_? Your father forgot to get the muffins again,” his Ma says, sounding way too bright for this early in the morning. “Thanks, sweetie. And I’m sure whatever it is you’re worried about isn’t worse than what’s going to happen if you don’t come up for breakfast. See you in a few.”

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, torn between amusement and a slight trickle of fear at his Ma’s request and following threat. He knows better than to argue, so he turns on his heels and heads for the bakery.

If he’s being honest, he’s grateful for the extra few minutes that buys him. It’s more time for him to calm down and convince himself that everything is going to be okay. It also gives him a chance to order a small espresso with a few sprinkles of soothing peace. The magic spreads through him with a tingle, loosening his tense muscles and bringing his heartbeat down.

It also helps that, on his way back home, his phone pings with a new text from Steve.

 

**Steve <3 [8:07AM]**

_Good luck today! You can do this :D And remember: I’m just a phone call away <3_

 

Bucky’s lips curl up in a smile despite himself, and he texts back a smiley face to Steve before he opens the door to his parents’ house. “Ma, I’m here!”

“Finally!” Winifred meets him in the hall, plucking the pastry box from Bucky with one hand and cupping his cheek with the other. “Are your doubts gone?” she asks, the lines around her eyes soft with fodness.

Bucky nods and kisses her cheek. “I have something I want to tell you and Dad. Something important.”

His Ma smiles at him, a sparkle in her eye. “It can wait for breakfast. News is best served with a full belly.”

Bucky has to agree. Ruining a meal before they get a chance to enjoy it isn’t something the Barneses like to do.

“Son.” George claps him on the shoulder once Bucky joins them at the table. “You’re doing okay.”

It is not a question, but Bucky answers him anyway. “I am,” he says with a smile, leaning into his Dad’s touch. “You know something, don’t you?”

His Dad merely smiles back, which is an answer in itself. He squeezes Bucky’s shoulder once before letting go. “What I know is that your mother needs help bringing the food out.”

“Right.” Bucky rolls his eyes, watching his Dad leave. “Rebecca?” he yells out.

“Buchanan?” Becca yells from upstairs, voice faint.

Bucky climbs the stairs two steps at a time. He knocks on the door to Becca’s bedroom once, not waiting for an answer before he bursts in.

“Don’t call me Buchanan.”

“Don’t come into my room without permission.” Becca throws one of her pillows at him. “I could’ve been doing something traumatizing and scarred you for life.”

“Your entire existence has already scarred me for life,” Bucky replies, flopping down next to Becca on her bed, Becca’s pillow hugged to his chest. “I need a pep talk.”

“Remember that what matters is what’s on the inside and people will look past your dumb face and fall in love with what’s in your heart,” Becca recites sweetly, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Bucky fights the urge to suffocate her with her own pillow. “I’m telling them about Steve today.”

Becca’s playful expression slips, eyes alert and serious. “It’s going to be okay,” she says quietly, squeezing his arm. “Ma will get excited at first, but it’ll probably be more because she gets to meet him now instead of, you know…”

“The Captain America thing,” Bucky finishes off with a sigh.

“Yeah.” Becca nods. “And then she’ll probably be worried because he’s, you know…”

Bucky stares at the ceiling. “Captain America.”

“We all just want you to be happy,” Becca tells him. “Everything else? We can work it out as a family.”

“Thanks, Becca.” Bucky knocks their knees together. “I’m not entirely convinced Dad doesn’t know already.”

“I feel like Dad knows everything,” Becca admits with a rushed whisper. “There’s a Look in his eyes, like he’s staring—”

“Into your brain,” they say at the same time, breaking into smiles soon after.

“Kids!” Winifred shouts. “Come on down or your father will eat all the toast!”

“I’ll fight him!” Becca yells back, scrambling to get off the bed and head downstairs.

Bucky chuckles, taking his time before joining them. He keeps hold of Becca’s words as he makes his way to the table and proceeds to stuff himself full of food. Whatever happens, they can work it out as a family.

George is the one who breaks the silence after they’ve finished eating, his hands wrapped loosely around a coffee mug. He stares at Bucky, wearing that Look he and Becca spoke about an hour before.

“Son,” George takes a sip of his drink, eyes shining, “go ahead.”

Bucky straightens in his chair, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Under the table, he can feel Becca knock her feet with his, her way to silently offer him support. It’s that little gesture that gives Bucky the final push to finally tell his parents about who Steve really is.

“I know I’ve been secretive about my soulmate, for reasons you’ll understand in a minute,” Bucky starts, fingers fidgeting with a napkin. “He’s pretty well-known in his business, so I wanted us both to have a chance to get to know each other without… without anyone making a fuss about who he is.”

“Bucky,” his Ma sighs and shakes her head a little. “We wouldn’t make a fuss because of who he _is_. We’d just make a fuss because he’s _yours_.”

“ _Ma_.” Bucky’s heart constricts painfully in his chest, a mixture of love and fondness and exasperation. “I wanted time to find out he could be that too. That he could be mine, despite the whole Fate thing.”

“And did you?” Winifred asks with a smile that tells Bucky she already knows the answer.

“Yes,” Bucky says softly, unable to keep his lips from curling up in a pleased smile. “And that brings me back to what I wanted to tell you guys.”

“We’re listening,” his Dad assures him, “with open minds.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose. “My soulmate is Steve Rogers,” he says, and then winces a bit when his parents just stare at him. “You might know him as Captain America?”

“We might—” his Ma cuts herself off, leveling Bucky with a look that could make his hair fall off his head. “Of _course_ we know who he is! That boy works with one of the most powerful witches of all time!”

Bucky opens and closes his mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Oh my god, Ma.” Becca laughs, delighted. “Of course you care more about Wanda Maximoff than Bucky being soulmates with _Captain America_.”

“She is a treasure to this world!” Winifred points at Becca, cheeks flushed. “Do you have any idea how much good she’s done since stepping into the public eye? She—”

“Is not Bucky’s soulmate,” George interrupts her, capturing Winifred’s hand with his own.

Winifred lets herself be stopped from going on a rant about how much she loves Wanda, her gaze finding Bucky’s once again. “No, she isn’t,” she agrees, settling into her chair and linking her fingers with George’s. “That honor is apparently reserved to Captain America.”

“Steve Rogers,” Becca corrects her, kicking Bucky’s foot under the table. “Captain America is just a symbol.”

A rush of gratitude and love so strong almost knocks the breath out of Bucky’s lungs. If he could get away with launching himself at Becca and tackling her into a hug, he would.

“Steve Rogers,” his Ma repeats, and then breaks into a smile as a thought occurs to her. “This means we can host him for dinner.”

Bucky groans, “ _Ma_.”

“What? I’m an old woman. I want to meet my son’s soulmate before I wither and die.”

“Wow, so that’s where Bucky gets his dramatics from,” Becca muses, and then promptly shuts up when Winifred glares at her.

“He’s busy,” Bucky lies, a half-assed attempt at closing the subject. “You know, saving the world and all.”

“If he’s as wonderful as that besotted look on your face makes him seem, then I’m sure he’ll take some time off his busy schedule to meet us,” Winifred says, daring him to argue.

Bucky knows he can’t and, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he does want Steve to meet his family. They’re the most important people in his life. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You better,” his Ma threatens. “I expect something to happen this month.”

“Fine,” Bucky sighs.

“Fine.” Winifred stays quiet for a few seconds, then reaches out with her free hand, placing it on Bucky’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “Are you happy, still?”

Bucky nods, bending down until his forehead touches the back of his Ma’s hand. “He’s more than I ever wished for.”

George chuckles, a quiet and warm sound that makes Bucky lift his head. His dad is smiling like he has a secret, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deep and pronounced.

“That’s the nature of soulmates, kid,” George says. “They can be all of our dreams come true.”

 

**

 

Bucky practically skips through his rounds, greeting patients with a wide smile and too much charm. A few goblins watch him with suspicion as Bucky checks on one of their own, beady eyes following his every movement. The werewolf in room 213 takes a deep breath when Bucky steps inside, tense muscles relaxing when Bucky gets his vitals, inhaling whatever happy smell Bucky is wafting off.

“That’s a change,” Mr. Howlett comments in his usual gruff way, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. “Did you get an extra dose of happiness in your coffee today?”

Bucky clicks his tongue, refusing to let his good mood be ruined. Truth is, he feels lighter now that he’s not hiding anything from his parents.

There are no secrets to keep and, with it, no burdens to carry around.

It’s all out in the open now, who Steve is to Bucky. At least to Bucky’s family. And they have been nothing but supportive, even if Bucky’s Ma has been texting him every five hours to remind him to invite Steve over for dinner.

“Can’t I just be in a good mood?” Bucky asks, jotting down notes on Mr. Howlett’s chart.

“Not near me,” he huffs.

Bucky bites back a smile. Despite his disgruntled and, if Bucky is being honest with himself, intimidating exterior, Mr. Howlett is as sweet as marshmallow inside.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky sighs. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

Mr. Howlett snorts, rolling his eyes at Bucky. “See you in a few hours, kid.”

Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his rounds. His good mood follows him throughout the day, something Bucky knows a few of his patients, aside from Mr. Howlett, catch on to. There are more smiles all around, kind glances and soft words.

No secrets to keep means room for happiness to grow.

Now all that’s left for him to do is introduce Steve to his family. And meet the Avengers.

The last bit makes a tendril of nerves curl around Bucky’s stomach, but he knows he doesn’t need to worry. He’s already met Sam, Wanda, and Natasha, and he’s still alive to tell those tales. He knows Steve talks about him to his team and, considering none of them have broken into Bucky’s apartment to threaten him, he figures none of them see him as a threat to Steve, his heart, or his happiness.

And yes, they haven’t come out to the public yet, but they’re not exactly keeping their relationship hidden. Wanda’s charms have helped immensely with nosy paparazzi, not that they’ve really been following Bucky and Steve around, and the people who are most important to them both already know who they are to each other.

Boyfriends.

 _Soulmates_.

Bucky swallows back a giggle, and wonders if maybe someone _did_ sneak a shot of happiness into his coffee this morning. This much smiling and laughing isn’t usual. Not for Grumpy Barnes, as the nurses affectionately call him.

Bucky is feeling so sappy and happy with himself that, as soon as he gets a break in between rounds, he grabs his phone and shoots Steve a quick text.

 

**Bucky [2:09PM]:**

_Thinking of you <3_

 

He only has a chance to check his phone again during his five-minute lunch break, which consists mostly of Bucky stuffing a stale veggie sandwich into his mouth with one hand while trying to hold his phone with another. He still can’t help but smile when he sees the picture reply from Steve, even if it means accidentally spitting out a chunk of carrot on the floor.

Steve stares at the camera with a lazy smile and messy hair, a ray of sun falling over his bare chest and making him glow. He looks like he’s just woken up from a nap, all mussed up and soft, and Bucky wants nothing more than to go to him and snuggle him until they both fall asleep again.

Bucky swallows the last of his sandwich before picking up the lost carrot and throwing it in the trash. He still has two minutes of free time and he uses it to drain his grape juice box and lock down plans with Steve. He misses his boyfriend.

 

**Bucky [6:18PM]:**

_Want to come over on Friday? For a date? :D_

_I’ll cook for you_

 

**Steve <3 [6:18PM]:**

_YES!!! I miss you and your face._

 

Bucky absolutely does _not_ let out another giggle at that.

 

**Bucky [6:19PM]:**

_I miss you too doll_

_Text you the details tmr?? Gotta work now <3_

 

**Steve <3 [6:19PM]:**

_Yes Buck :D_

_Have a nice night at work and be safe <3_

 

Feeling warm down to the tips of his toes, Bucky finishes his shift, already forming a plan in his head. This is going to be a date to remember.

 

**

 

On Friday, Bucky dreams of buns.

Perfectly round and golden buns, coming fresh out of the oven, to lay right on Bucky’s bed. They bounce on top of the mattress, warm and soft, and looking so fucking _good_ that Bucky wants to take a bite out of them.

So of course Bucky wakes up, stomach rumbling and drool sliding down his chin, just as he is about to close his mouth on the delicious curve of one of the buns and make his wish come true.

**

 

Bucky walks into the bakery with narrowed eyes filled with suspicion. He keeps waiting for Fate to let him know his glimpse has come true when he walks up to the counter and orders two buns, but all he feels is some mild irritation at having his morning plans disturbed. He had wanted to stay in bed until he couldn’t anymore, but now here he is, at _Sword & Scone_, buying buns from a troll.

“Thank you,” Bucky still says when Bart, the troll, hands him his order, because he still knows to be polite to others despite his grumpiness.

And he does have to admit, as he takes a bite out of the bun: it tastes pretty fucking good.

There is still no _aha!_ to mark his vision as fulfilled, so Bucky goes on with his morning knowing that something is going to happen. He grabs his phone out of his pocket as he makes his way home, texting Steve to meet him at 7 o’clock tonight.

Bucky’s next call is to his Ma.

Despite being an adult male who has lived by himself since he was eighteen years old, Bucky is still surprisingly shitty at cooking for himself. This isn’t usually a problem. Bucky is very well acquainted with the best delivery places in his neighborhood and he can microwave the shit out of frozen food. But this won’t do for tonight. Not when he’s expecting to have Steve over for a date.

“Is everything alright, sweetie?” Winifred asks as soon as she picks up the call.

Bucky can hear the faint sound of babbling coming through the speaker, which means he probably caught his Ma in the middle of a Coven meeting. “Yes, Ma, sorry if I interrupted.”

“You are never an interruption. What can I do for you?”

“Can you send me that recipe for that mushroom pasta you made for Becca’s Science Fair win last year?”

His Ma is silent for a few seconds, before she asks, “Are you cooking for Steve?”

Bucky winces when he hears a chorus of, “Who’s Steve?” coming from his Ma’s Coven.

It gets even worse when his Ma says back to them, “He’s my son’s soulmate.”

“I am,” Bucky answers, because he’s not about to lie to his Ma. “Can you text it to me? He’s coming over tonight.”

“He’s coming over tonight,” his Ma repeats, voice high, the statement quickly followed by a loud burst of chatter from the Coven.

“Yes,” Bucky sighs, scrubbing a hand over his forehead as he walks. “Can you do it?”

“Of course I can text you the recipe,” Winifred huffs. “But are you sure you want the mushroom pasta? I could send you the recipe for the meatball casserole I made for your father the first night we had se—”

“Ma!” Bucky yells, absolutely horrified, and so loud that the vampire walking in front of him jumps around and hisses. “Sorry,” Bucky tells him, and then whispers to his Ma, “Mushroom pasta. Please. And I’m hanging up now.”

Bucky hits the end button and stares down at his phone for a few minutes, trying really hard not to think about what his Ma was about to say. He comforts himself by eating his last bun while he changes directions and walks to the closest grocery store, glad to see his Ma’s texted him the correct recipe instead of… whatever it is she had in mind.

Bucky also has _no doubt_ he’s going to be the talk of the Coven today. At least he knows his Ma is going to keep Steve’s identity to herself. He doesn’t want to know what spells those old witches would try to cast if they found out. Probably something to make Bucky tidier or a better cook or more loveable. Maybe the first two wouldn’t be so bad, but Bucky likes himself just as he is, fuck you very much.

Bucky queues up a podcast episode of _Deadly Manners_ to listen to while he shops. He checks the recipe for what he needs, and then feels all kinds of disappointed in himself when he realizes the only ingredient he has at home is salt.

“You need to adult better,” Bucky mumbles to himself. Maybe that can be one of his New Year’s resolutions.

Bucky grabs a basket and makes his way through the store, grabbing what he needs: spaghetti, olive oil, diced bacon, pepper flakes, fresh basil, and button mushrooms. He has a moment of confusion over what the fuck capers are, but after asking one of the minotaur store employees for directions, he finds himself with a jar of it to take home.

“Now for dessert.” Bucky sighs and worries at his bottom lip. He still has some cookie dough at home, but that doesn’t feel fancy enough for tonight.

Whatever he has in mind gets thrown out the window as soon as he sees some cupcakes, though. His lips curl into a smirk when he picks them up. They’ll get a good laugh out of Steve.

It’s almost lunch time when Bucky arrives home, putting away everything he needs and printing out the full pasta recipe so he can stick it to the fridge with his Saturn magnet. He feels pretty proud of himself for having a productive morning. At least until he’s faced with the idea of _lunch_ and how the only food he bought is what he’s going to use for his dinner with Steve tonight.

“ _Fuck_.” Bucky facepalms, utterly unimpressed with himself. “You’re a fucking disaster.”

There’s no one there to argue with him, so Bucky sighs and grabs his phone again. Chinese takeout means he’ll have leftovers for lunch and dinner tomorrow. He knows how much Steve can eat, which means he’s not counting on having any pasta left after tonight. It also gives him time to go to the grocery store before he’s back at the hospital. _Again._

It’s not all bad, though. He flops down on the couch with his food while rewatching _Stranger Things_ , killing time until his hair appointment this afternoon.

Bucky’s decided to go all out for tonight, or at least as out as he can—yummy food, some candles, his hair perfectly done to his expectations. He’s feeling good and happy about life, and he wants to make something that will make _Steve_ feel good and happy about life. Even though Bucky’s pretty sure that, to Steve, just hanging out together takes care of that.

 _Hairloom_ ’s sign shines golden and bright, and Bucky can’t help but smile when he pushes the door open and steps into the salon. It takes only a second before Pynneth, Bucky’s hairdresser, walks over to him, all sharp smiles and glinting eyes.

“Bucky,” they greet him, a little bit of smoke coming out of their mouth. “It is good to see you again.”

“Hey.” Bucky grins back. Pynneth is one of his favorite beings in the world, and the only one besides himself who Bucky lets do anything to his hair. “Thanks for fitting me on such short notice.”

“Anything for,” Pynneth starts, clawed fingers reaching out to touch Bucky’s hair, “this.”

Bucky has to admit: the first time he ever came to _Hairloom_ , after a disastrous experience at the hair salon that left him with a bald spot at the back of his head, he was a little freaked out. Dragons aren’t exactly known to be the most… personable beings, and to have one so close to his head made Bucky nervous.

The thing is, though, _Hairloom_ dragons hoard hair. Yes, it’s gross, but Bucky has to confess that having someone working on his hair who considers it a _treasure_ brings only positive results. Bucky not only came out with the bald spot covered, but his hair also had a shine and volume to it that he has never been able to replicate at home.

“Can you give me a trim?” Bucky asks as he sits down to have his hair washed. “About two fingers or so? And a blowout. I have a date with my boyfriend today.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Pynneth hisses, forked tongue peeking out from between sharp teeth. “Deep conditioning?”

“Yes, please.”

Bucky almost falls asleep in the chair, entire body relaxing the way it does whenever Pynneth gets their hands on his hair. The way the claws scratch at his scalp is soothing in a way Bucky never thought possible.

Once Pynneth is done, Bucky’s hair has a shine to it that could make sirens weep, the wavy strands falling to his jaw and curling towards his cheek. It looks as soft as silk too, and is the perfect volume to bring attention to how beautiful Bucky’s entire face is.

Bucky grins at his reflection in the mirror. “You are a gift, Pynneth.”

Pynneth lets out a deep and pleased rumble, running their fingers one more time through Bucky’s hair before letting go. “Thank you for your business.”

Bucky takes an Uber home, feeling not one bit ashamed when he spends the entire ride taking selfies on his phone.

He still has a few hours before he needs to start prepping the food, which he elects to spend between taking a bath and then making sure there are no incriminating pieces of dirty laundry around his apartment. He’s actually been better about cleaning on his days off, mostly because he wants his place to feel warm and cozy in case Steve stops by.

The bath also offers Bucky the opportunity to relax before the frenzy that is cooking dinner. He picks one of his favorite bath bombs, _Rocket Science_ , and makes sure to pin his hair up before getting into the tub. The water is warm around him, smelling of bergamot and lemon, and Bucky wastes half an hour just soaking and daydreaming about his date with Steve.

Bucky’s skin is all smooth and soft when he steps out of the bath. He goes through his usual dating grooming routine before padding barefoot to his bedroom and opening his closet door.

“Okay, Barnes,” he says aloud. “You want to look fuckable, but also like you give good hugs.”

Bucky goes for one of his tighter boxers briefs, red with a black waistband, which frames all the right places. Black skinny jeans with a rip in one knee, plus a loose light gray sweater thrown over a soft and maybe slightly transparent black v-neck complete the look.

Bucky twirls around while inspecting himself in the mirror, taking in the way his hair shines and contours his face. “It’ll do.”

Cooking is… surprisingly not as boring as Bucky thought it would be.

His _‘Get Down to Business_ ’ playlist helps him get going, chopping and dicing and rereading the recipe instructions. He sneaks in a mushroom or two while he’s at it, popping them into his mouth and humming along with the music. It all comes out looking — and smelling — pretty good, if he does say so himself. Along with the candles and everything else, it almost seems like Bucky knows what the fuck he’s doing.

And it all comes together just in time.

“Coming!” Bucky yells when he hears Steve knock. He does a final check in the mirror, biting at his bottom lip a few times to make sure it’s pink and plump, before opening the door. “Hey.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Steve grins at him, shy and sweet, from behind a bouquet of paper flowers. He’s in tight, light-wash jeans and a dark blue button down that makes Bucky want to do dirty _dirty_ things to him. He offers the flowers to Bucky. “For you.”

Bucky laughs, cheeks turning slightly pink as he takes in his gift. “Flowers, really?”

Steve shrugs one shoulder and steps inside. “I wanted to bring you something. Figured paper ones were safer, with your schedule and all.”

Bucky smiles and pulls Steve in for a kiss. “Thanks, doll. I love them.”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush now, something he tries to hide by pressing another kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Anything for my best guy.”

“Keep saying that and I might keep you.”

Steve smiles and nuzzles Bucky’s cheek. “You smell good.”

“Are you sure it’s not my cooking?” Bucky teases, letting himself lean against Steve’s broad chest.

“That too,” Steve murmurs. “And your hair looks—“

“Absolutely amazing?” Bucky preens.

Steve laughs, one of his hands sliding up the back of Bucky’s neck so he can card his fingers through the strands. “You always look amazing,” he says. “But it’s shinier than usual. And so soft.”

“I got my hair done today.”

“For me?” Steve kisses Bucky’s cheek.

“For _me_ ,” Bucky corrects him. “I like looking pretty.”

“You’re always pretty,” Steve argues.

“Damn right,” Bucky says, blushing a little. “You hungry? I made mushroom pasta.”

“Yes, please,” Steve groans. “Hill wouldn’t let us order snacks until we finished debriefing.”

“The horror!” Bucky gasps. “That’s why you hide power bars in your pockets, Steve. That way you never go hungry.”

“I might start doing that,” Steve sighs, and then gasps a little under his breath when he sees the spread Bucky’s set out for them. “Bucky…”

Bucky shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious, and then gently pushes Steve down onto a chair. “Sit. I’ll bring you a drink.”

“This looks amazing,” Steve says as he takes his glass from Bucky, but not without grabbing Bucky’s hand and dropping a kiss to the back of it. “It smells amazing too. Thank you.”

“Anything for my best guy,” Bucky throws Steve’s words back to him, winking when Steve laughs. “I haven’t actually tasted this, so if it came out like crap, we can order takeout.”

Steve squares his shoulders at that, eyes narrowed as he fills his plate with a small mountain of pasta. “I’m sure it tastes wonderful,” he says, and then glances down at the food as if daring it to argue.

Bucky bites down on his lip and tries to stop the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. It’s useless, so he settles for watching Steve twirl some pasta around his fork and bring it to his mouth, his breath still in his lungs as anticipation builds.

Steve lets out a tiny little sound of surprise as he chews, which quickly turns into a hum of appreciation and raised eyebrows while he keeps eating. “Buck,” he tries to say with his mouth full, but then just settles for giving Bucky two thumbs up and making the shape of a heart with his hands.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, at the same time that pride sparks warm in his chest. “Why, thank you,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and giving Steve a tiny head bow. “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, mouth still full of food. He makes his intentions known well enough, though, when he pushes the bowl towards Bucky so he can serve himself. Bucky does, unable to stop the little flicker of surprise when he confirms that _yes_ , dinner does taste pretty good.

“Hey, so,” Bucky starts, covering his mouth with the back of his hand until he swallows, “I’ve been meaning to ask.”

“Hm?” Steve glances up at him, already scooping more pasta and mushrooms into his mouth.

“Ma wants you over for dinner,” Bucky says, and tries his best to ignore the way his stomach churns with nerves at the thought. “So you can, you know, meet the family and everything.”

Steve smiles a soft smile, finding Bucky’s feet under the table and trapping them between his ankles. “Ask her what day works best for her. I’ll be there.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Steve nods. “I really want to meet your family.”

“They really want to meet you,” Bucky says quietly, and then adds, “And I want you to meet them too. The most important people in my life and all of that.”

Steve’s smile widens a little at that, but stays just as soft. “Right. I want you to meet the team too. Officially.”

“Instead of at work?” Bucky laughs. “Or during our dates?”

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah. It’s gonna be tough with Christmas, but maybe New Years? Tony always throws a huge party.”

Bucky nods slowly, going over his schedule in his head. He worked during the holidays last year, so Claire owes him. “I think I can make that work.”

“Great. I’ll let them know I’m bringing you. And not to try anything stupid.”

Bucky bats his lashes at Steve. “My hero.”

Steve salutes him with the fork. “I live to serve.”

“Tell me how your week’s been,” Bucky prompts him, and listens closely as Steve tells him about his days.

It’s the kind of mundane domesticity Bucky has learned to love so much: both of them eating dinner, talking about their lives, sharing memories. Their schedules aren’t exactly conducive to this kind of thing, so getting to spend some time with Steve, just hanging out, is amazing. Especially when Steve keeps eating seconds and thirds and fourths of the pasta Bucky cooked, going as far as polishing the bowl and then leaning back against his chair, stomach full.

“Someone was hungry,” Bucky comments, incredibly pleased with himself.

Steve flushes a little, but his smile is sweet and unselfconscious when he says, “It was really good pasta.”

“Maybe I’ll try my hand at cooking again, some other time,” Bucky says. “But now, dessert?”

Steve perks up. “Yes, please.”

Steve helps him bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen and tries to insist on washing them.

“We can do that after dessert,” Bucky tells him, “since you love doing chores so much.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but finally leaves the dirty plates alone. His hands find a place to rest on Bucky’s hips instead and pull him close.

“Did you make dessert too?” Steve asks, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“I _bought_ dessert. Let me go for a sec.” Bucky is careful when he takes the cupcake tray out of the fridge, making sure to keep them hidden until he’s back in front of Steve and can present them to him with a grin and a, “Ta-da!”

Steve takes one look at the red and blue cupcake frosting and shield decorations and starts laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Captain America cupcakes? Really?”

“Don’t argue with my good taste.” Bucky sticks his tongue out at him. “I sneaked one earlier and they’re really fucking good.”

“We’ll see.” Steve grins. “Cupcakes and Netflix?”

“Lead the way.”

They snuggle up on the couch, legs tangled together and the tray balanced over Steve’s thighs. Bucky feels all kinds of smug when Steve takes a bite of the first cupcake, eyes widening when he gets to the gooey melted chocolate inside.

“Fuck,” Steve says with his mouth full, a bit of blue frosting clinging to his bottom lip.

“Told you,” Bucky says, just as he leans in and licks Steve’s lips clean. “They’re really fucking good.”

Together, they destroy the entire cupcake tray.

“I’m full,” Steve declares after finishing off his eighth cupcake, his hands clutching his tummy.

“How could you _possibly_?” Bucky gasps, and earns a poke on the ribs for his teasing.

“Shuddup,” Steve mumbles, and then leans in so he can rest their foreheads together. His eyes are clear and fond as he looks at Bucky. “Thank you for dinner today. I loved it.”

Bucky brushes their lips together. “My pleasure.”

Steve hums and presses into another kiss, sticky sweet and tasting of chocolate. The kisses they share start out slow and soft, but soon enough turn into something entirely different when Bucky licks his way into Steve’s mouth, wanting more. Steve opens up for him, easy and eager, with a tiny little moan that hits Bucky straight in the gut.

“Steve,” Bucky murmurs, greedy hands moving from Steve’s face and neck down to his chest, right before he closes in for another kiss.

Steve kisses him back just as deep, lips moving together as they taste each other. It’s the easiest thing for Bucky to swing a leg over Steve’s thighs and sit on his lap, humming in pleasure when Steve grips at his hips and pulls him even closer.

“Okay?” Steve asks, breath hot over Bucky’s lips, just as his fingers inch under Bucky’s sweater and shirt, seeking skin.

Bucky nods and kisses Steve again, letting himself get lost in the feeling of Steve’s body under his, Steve’s hands on him, Steve’s taste on his tongue. There is no hurry or urgency to this, just the two of them enjoying themselves. The warmth emanating from Steve’s body only gets more intense as they make out, and soon enough Bucky pulls back with a laugh.

“I’m sweating,” Bucky explains at Steve’s tiny sound of disappointment and frowny face. “You’re like a furnace.”

“Sorry,” Steve says, having the grace to look sheepish. “It happens sometimes.”

Bucky smacks a kiss to Steve’s forehead and another one to the tip of his nose. “Nothing to apologize for. I’m sure I’ll be taking advantage of this when it starts snowing.”

Steve smiles at him, and then tugs at the hem of Bucky’s sweater. “Maybe take this off?”

“Why, Stevie, are you trying to get me out of my clothes?”

“Oh geez, you’ve seen through my masterplan,” Steve deadpans. “Whatever shall I do now?”

Bucky laughs, bumping their noses together before saying, “You should help me. I don’t want to ruin my hair.”

Steve flashes him a soft smile which is accompanied by a kiss to Bucky’s chin. He’s surprisingly gentle as he pulls Bucky’s sweater up and off of him. “Better?”

Bucky shivers a little, but he feels less like he’s about to melt. “Much. Now get back here.”

“Let me look at you first,” Steve murmurs, fingers tracing the collar of Bucky’s slightly transparent v-neck.

Bucky swallows hard and tries not to squirm. The entire reason he wore this stupid shirt was so Steve would be attracted to him, so he shouldn’t feel shy when Steve is looking his fill. Yet he can feel the blood rising to his cheeks and his nipples harden under Steve’s hungry gaze.

“C’mon, doll,” Bucky pleads, breathless.

Steve is the one who blushes a little now, and slowly leans to brush their mouths together. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Bucky answers, and then makes his point by letting his hands linger over Steve’s pecs and squeezing.

Steve snorts but pushes into the touch, and the heat that always surrounds him wraps itself around Bucky again. Bucky grins and squeezes again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, his voice sounding close to a whine.

Bucky hums and traces Steve’s nipples through his shirt, feeling them peak under his touch. Bucky can also feel _other_ parts of Steve rising up under him, and that sends a rush of lust through Bucky that almost takes his breath away. “Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve pants a little, and the grip he has on Bucky’s waist tightens.

“How do you feel about going to my bedroom?”

Steve blinks and then nods. “I feel very good about it.”

“Let’s go then.” Bucky pecks him on the lips and, being unable to resist, pinches Steve’s nipples.

Steve twitches and lets out a moan, using his grip on Bucky’s waist to drag him down. Bucky gasps when he feels Steve’s hard cock under his ass, his own hard-on now pressed to Steve’s stomach.

“Hold on,” Steve warns him, and a second later he has Bucky up in the air.

Bucky yelps and wraps his arms and legs around Steve, trying to understand what’s happening. “Oh my god, I cannot believe you.”

Steve just squeezes him closer as he carries Bucky to his bedroom. “It’s faster this way.”

Bucky squirms a little and wraps his legs more securely around Steve’s waist. “Hotter too,” he mumbles, butterflies in his stomach.

He can’t _believe_ Steve just went and picked him up like he doesn’t weigh anything. He _knows_ Steve is a supersoldier, knows he’s stronger than pretty much everyone Bucky’s ever met, but to have Steve exercise that power to manhandle Bucky so they can get to his bedroom faster? _Fuck_.

Steve smirks at him and mouths at Bucky’s jaw. “Good to know.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and tries his best not to whimper. They haven’t even done anything other than make out, and Bucky is already like this: needy and wanting Steve all over him.

Steve slowly lays him down on the bed, like Bucky is something precious that deserves Steve’s utmost care. It makes Bucky feel all mushy inside, and he can’t stop himself from locking his arms around Steve’s shoulders and bringing him down with a kiss. Steve laughs against his mouth but goes, settling on top of Bucky, his warmth covering Bucky completely.

“Someone’s overdressed,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s lips as he pulls at Steve’s button-down, doing a really bad job at trying to get it off of him.

Steve laughs again, low and bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he presses a kiss to the curve of Bucky’s cheek. “We’re wearing the same amount of clothes.”

“And we should fix that. Immediately.”

Steve stares down at him, eyes soft and with a gentle yet expectant smile on his face. “You sure?”

Bucky cups Steve’s cheek with one hand, thumb pressing down right under Steve’s bottom lip. “I enthusiastically consent to getting naked with you.”

Steve’s slow grin transforms his face, but it is the faint glow that surrounds him which takes Bucky’s breath away.

“Me too,” Steve says, oblivious to the glowing. “I mean, consent to getting naked with you.”

“You’re not gonna burn down the bed, are you?” Bucky asks with a raised eyebrow and, at Steve’s confused look, taps a finger to the tip of Steve’s nose. “You’re glowing again.”

“Oh.” Steve blinks down at himself, and then smiles. “Yeah.”

Bucky nuzzles Steve’s cheek, basking in the warmth of him. “Wanna tell me what that’s about?”

Steve shrugs one shoulder and lays more of his weight on Bucky. “I guess.” He takes a deep breath, and there is a glint behind his eyes as he looks at Bucky, happiness mixed with disbelief when he says, “I spoke to Thor about it. It happens when I’m happy. Truly happy and at peace with things.”

A lump forms at Bucky’s throat. There is no missing the weight and meaning behind Steve’s words, and a little part of Bucky’s heart breaks at knowing this is only the second time he’s ever seen Steve’s power shining through his skin this way.

“Sweetheart,” is all Bucky can say, as words feel awkward in his mouth at the true revelation of what this means.

Steve doesn’t say anything to that. He just bends down and kisses Bucky, deep and slow and like there is nothing he would rather do than this. When they break apart, Steve whispers, “Wanna get naked?”

Bucky snorts and then lets out a giggle. “How romantic. Really.”

Steve bats his lashes at him. “I aim to please.”

“Then get us naked.” Bucky smacks a kiss to his lips. “I’ve been waiting to have you in my bed.”

“The lack of space themed sheets gives you away,” Steve throws back, much to Bucky’s surprise.

“Excuse me,” Bucky gasps, all mock-offense and a little bit of shock. “Don’t diss my galaxy stuff.”

Steve must have seen them back during that failed date when he put Bucky to bed and bought him groceries.

“I’d never. I love how much of a nerd you are.”

Bucky tries to glare at him, but it’s impossible to keep his lips from twitching when Steve looks so pleased with himself. “Shut it, pal, or I’ll kick you to the curb.”

Steve responds to that by wrapping himself around Bucky and hugging him close, his mouth tucked right against Bucky’s pulse point. “Like I’d ever let you go.”

Bucky’s heart trips in his chest, and he has to pull Steve up to him and kiss him lest he melt into a pile of mush. Steve kisses him back just as sweet. A kiss that turns hot and a little desperate as the seconds tick by.

“Okay,” Bucky pants when he breaks the kiss, fingers finding the row of buttons down Steve’s shirt and going about undoing them. “Clothes off _now_ , please.”

Steve doesn’t argue. Together, they manage to rid Steve of his shirt, and Bucky wastes no time in getting out of his v-neck and throwing it on the floor, enjoying the contrast of the near transparent fabric with the softness of Steve’s shirt.

“Pants,” Steve mutters with a kiss to Bucky’s chin, hands swift as he gets the zipper of Bucky’s jeans down.

Bucky wiggles around until he’s left only in his socks and boxers, body splayed on top of the mattress. The look Steve gives him is pure hunger. Bucky can tell not only by his dark eyes, but also by the way the temperature in the room rises up.

A consequence of being Steve, Bucky guesses.

Hot like burning.

Literally.

“You too.” Bucky tries to get Steve’s pants down, but the angle doesn’t help. He lets out a little frustrated sound in the back of his throat, tongue peeking out from between his teeth as he tries to get a good grip on the button of Steve’s pants.

Steve chuckles, batting Bucky’s hands away. “Let me do it.”

Bucky pouts, but doesn’t argue. This just means Steve will be naked sooner and then Bucky can put his hands all over him.

Steve stands up so he can kick his pants away. It means Bucky has a clear view of Steve wearing only his tight black boxer briefs, which cling to him in all the right places.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Bucky whispers, unable to help himself.

Color rises to Steve’s cheeks as he ducks his head, embarrassed. “Not as beautiful as you.”

Bucky bites down on his bottom lip at the flattery, but decides to play along. “You’re right. Nobody could possibly be prettier than me.”

Steve laughs and hooks a hand around Bucky’s ankle. His fingers play with the elastic of Bucky’s sock. “Okay?”

“Yes.” Bucky wiggles his toes. “I refuse to be wearing socks the first time we have sex.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “The horror.”

“Can I?” Bucky asks as he sits up on the bed, Steve still standing beside it. Bucky’s fingers hook on the waistband of Steve’s boxers, skin flushed at the heat that rises up from Steve’s skin.

“You first,” Steve argues. His hands slide down from Bucky’s shoulders to his sides and then settle on his hips.

Bucky lets himself be pushed down on the mattress again, breath hitching when Steve’s fingers tease at the dip of his hipbone. “C’mon,” he breathes out, arching his back and making his intentions clear.

Steve presses a kiss over Bucky’s chest as he pulls Bucky’s underwear down, his touch gentle and firm on Bucky’s thighs and down his legs until Bucky is naked.

Bucky tries his best not to squirm. Instead, he lets Steve look as much as he wants. He knows the picture he makes: long hair spread over the pillows, cheeks flushed with heat, cock filling up against his thigh.

“Bucky,” Steve murmurs, awe thick in his tone.

Bucky’s lips twitch in a small smile at the same time as butterflies flutter in his stomach. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way Steve gazes at him sometimes: like he’s a treasure, a dream come true.

“Your turn,” Bucky reminds him, eyes lingering on the muscles of Steve’s stomach and the very impressive bulge between his thighs.

Bucky watches him as Steve lowers his boxers, mouth watering when Steve’s cock springs free. Steve is almost as big as Bucky is, but thicker. Bucky just _knows_ Steve is going to hit all the right spots for him, and he can’t wait for the opportunity to give him a try.

Not now, though. Not just yet.

Bucky is so focused on the hard curve of Steve’s cock that he almost misses it. When Steve steps out of his boxers, he turns around to throw it on top of their clothes. He turns around, and Bucky gets the perfect view of his ass.

And that’s when it happens.

_Aha!_

Bucky facepalms so hard the noise echoes around the room. “Oh my _god_ , I cannot fucking _believe_.”

Steve freezes with half his ass in Bucky’s direct line of sight, his eyes wide and confusion spread all over his face. “What? What is it?”

Bucky shakes his head and covers the rest of his face with his hands. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because _really_.

Out of all the fucking visions he could have, he gets _this_.

“Bucky?” Steve scrambles over to the bed, sitting down next to Bucky. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Bucky makes a strangled noise, and then tips forward to smash his face against Steve’s shoulder. It’s nice there; it’s warm and it smells like Steve.

“Sweetheart?” Steve calls him tentatively. His arms come around Bucky, one hand rubbing up and down Bucky’s back. “What is it? Do you need us to stop?”

“No,” Bucky replies right away, heart flipping at Steve calling him sweetheart. He takes a deep breath. “It’s just— one of my visions came true.”

“Right now?”

Bucky nods, nose hitting Steve’s collarbone. “Yes, right now.”

“Is that… bad?”

Bucky pulls back to stare at his boyfriend. Steve looks back at him with furrowed brows and tense lines around his mouth, all screaming concern. “It’s not bad, it’s just so fucking _stupid_.”

Steve’s expression relaxes a bit. He moves from rubbing circles on Bucky’s back to cupping Bucky’s cheek, thumb tracing softly at the line of Bucky’s jaw. “Want to tell me about it?”

Bucky bites down on his bottom lip. He might as well. “I dreamed of buns.”

Steve blinks. “Buns?”

“Buns. Perfectly round and golden buns, coming fresh out of the oven, to lie right on my bed,” Bucky answers. “I was about to take a bite of them when I woke up.”

Steve frowns. “How does that—”

“I saw _your_ buns,” Bucky interrupts him, surprised a little at himself when he can feel the blood rush to his face, “when you took your underwear off. And that’s when… that’s when I knew. That this was what my vision was about.”

Steve stares at him for a few seconds, not saying anything. And then he bursts out laughing.

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be annoyed or join in, so he just sits there, naked, with a constipated look on his face, while Steve’s entire body shakes with laughter. Steve even goes as far as crossing his arms over his stomach and doubling over while he laughs, the top of his head hitting the middle of Bucky’s chest.

Bucky glares down at Steve’s hair. This is not how today was supposed to go.

“Stop laughing,” Bucky complains, and then pokes Steve in the ribs for good measure.

Steve hiccups and flinches away, but his laughter subsides a little. His face is flushed and his expression still a little wobbly when he looks up at Bucky, but there is nothing but fondness in his eyes.

“You can’t blame me,” is all Steve says, teeth coming down on his bottom lip as if not to burst out laughing again.

Bucky makes a face at him, and then sighs. “Yeah, not really.” He frowns down at his naked lap, trying to ignore how pathetic his soft dick looks resting against his thigh. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“The mood’s not ruined,” Steve argues. He lets go of his middle so he can rest his hands on top of Bucky’s thighs. “In fact, I think your vision gave me an idea.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You don’t say.”

Steve grins, happy and all kinds of filthy. “How do you feel about eating out?”

Bucky is the one trying not to laugh now. “I feel very good about it.”

“Good.” Steve presses a sharp kiss to Bucky’s lips. “But I want to suck you first.”

“You really are a man with a plan,” Bucky sighs dreamily, and then laughs when Steve pushes him down on the pillows.

Bucky tilts his head up for a kiss, clumsy and a little sloppy because they’re both still smiling. Bucky doesn’t remember ever having this much fun with someone in bed. Figures it would happen with Steve.

They trade sweet and deep kisses as they touch each other, legs tangled and chests pressed together. Bucky’s dick is quickly rising to the occasion again. It’s impossible not to, when Steve is hovering above him and covering his body, a blanket of warmth that makes Bucky’s heart sing.

It only gets better when Steve moves his mouth from Bucky’s own and down to Bucky’s neck, teeth nipping carefully at Bucky’s pulse point. Bucky gasps and bares his neck to give Steve more room, body trembling at the sharp bites of pain that send tingles down his spine.

“No marks,” Bucky remembers to say, but then rushes to add, “Not where people can see.”

He can feel Steve smile against his collarbone, and he’s not at all surprised when Steve follows his words by sucking a mark right above his left pec. Bucky smiles and grips Steve’s hair, surrendering himself to the press of Steve’s mouth against him.

“Okay?” Steve asks him as he stares up at Bucky from under his lashes. His thumbs skates over Bucky’s side to lightly trace over Bucky’s nipple.

“More than okay,” Bucky promises, and then gives Steve’s thigh a gentle kick with his heel. “Now get back to it.”

Steve grins and does, lowering his head and sucking Bucky’s nipple into his mouth. Bucky moans and arches his back, cock now fully hard and leaking against his stomach. Steve has his fun with Bucky’s chest, sucking and biting and pinching at his nipples until Bucky is reduced to a begging mess.

“Steve, _please_ ,” Bucky gasps as he pulls at Steve’s hair, trying to tug him closer and push him down at the same time.

“Shh, sweetheart.” Steve drops a kiss right over Bucky’s heart. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky hisses when Steve nips at the curve of his ribs, the sound transformed into a giggle when, in the next second, Steve sticks his tongue into Bucky’s navel.

“No,” Bucky complains, loosening his hold on Steve’s hair and cupping a hand over his jaw. “That tickles. And it feels weird.”

“Weird? How about this?” Steve asks, and then proceeds to press a slow and wet kiss to Bucky’s wrist.

Bucky shivers. “Way less weird.”

“And this?” Steve kisses his way up Bucky’s arm, and then stops right at the bend of his elbow.

“That’s—” Bucky cuts off with a laugh when Steve licks his elbow, tongue flat and too wet. “Ugh, _no_. That’s… just _no_. What the hell?”

Steve grins up at him and waggles his brows. “Not sexy?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Weird and gross.”

“Sorry.” Steve presses an apologetic kiss to the crook of Bucky’s elbow. _This_ touch, for some reason, makes Bucky shiver again, his legs tightening around Steve’s waist. Steve notices, and repeats his action one more time before saying, “I’ll go lick something else, then.”

Bucky barely has any time to open his mouth and tell Steve how terrible that was before Steve slides down his body and darts out his tongue to lick at Bucky’s slit, tasting the precome gathering at the head. Bucky groans just as his cock twitches, wanting more of Steve’s mouth. Steve complies, grabbing the base of Bucky’s cock with a hand and sucking at the head, slowly feeding Bucky into his mouth.

Bucky watches and tries not to hyperventilate. Steve’s lips are red hot wrapped around his length, and his eyes are closed like he has never tasted something so good. He feels so _hot_ , so wet inside, and Bucky’s pretty sure this isn’t going to last more than a few seconds.

“Doll,” Bucky murmurs, thumb pressing against the corner of Steve’s mouth, right where his cock disappears.

Steve opens his eyes and glances right at him, pupils dark and fire behind his gaze. Bucky wonders if he should be worried about Steve accidentally setting his dick on fire, but, as Steve starts to bob his head, all thoughts disappear. Bucky’s mind is only filled with the image of Steve sucking him off.

Bucky really doesn’t last long. He doesn’t even try to hold out and think of Grandma Barnes’s pottery collection. He just gives himself to Steve and how good he’s feeling, letting his body rise up and then crash when his orgasm rushes through him. He barely has any time to give Steve a warning before he comes, not that Steve pulls away. Instead, Steve sucks more of him into his mouth, humming around his cock when Bucky lets himself go and spills down Steve’s throat.

“Blrrgh,” Bucky says as he melts into the pillows, chest heaving and skin covered in sweat. Steve climbs up the bed and flops down beside him, a look on his face so smug that it makes Bucky laugh. “C’mere,” Bucky says, making grabby hands at Steve.

Steve leans forward a little, but stops short of kissing Bucky. “I have dick breath.”

“I’m about to have my tongue up your ass,” Bucky tells him, loving the way his words bring a flush to Steve’s cheeks. “I think I can handle dick breath.”

Steve lets out a low chuckle that is swallowed by Bucky’s lips. Bucky can’t help but moan at the taste of himself on Steve’s tongue, salty and a little bitter. The kiss is slow and deep, enough to bring Bucky back down and add a desperate edge to Steve’s grip on Bucky’s waist.

“Lie down on your stomach for me?” Bucky asks when he pulls back, but not before nuzzling their noses together.

Steve nods and gets in position, arms folded under his head and one knee folded close to his side. It bares him for Bucky’s gaze, and although Bucky can see the blush riding down Steve’s face to his neck, he loves how much Steve trusts him to do this.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky tells him as he kisses the back of Steve’s neck, nuzzling at his hairline a little.

“Bucky,” is all Steve says, shy and maybe a little embarrassed.

“Tell me if I do something you don’t like.”

Steve nods. “Promise.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s shoulder, then moves down to press his lips to every knob of Steve’s spine. Steve squirms a little in place, body shaking lightly, but lets Bucky have his time.

Bucky’s breath hitches when he comes face to face with Steve’s buns, his mind going back to his vision. Before he can help himself, Bucky lowers his mouth and bites at Steve’s right cheek.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve hisses, throwing him a look over his shoulder.

“Sorry.” Bucky kisses the spot he bit, right over the reddened skin. “Couldn’t resist. I’ve been wanting to do that since I woke up.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but then has the guts to wiggle his butt right on Bucky’s face. “Less biting, more of the other stuff.”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky grins at him through a mock salute.

Steve’s butt is out of this world, so Bucky takes his time enjoying it. He licks him open slowly, just little flicks of his tongue around Steve’s hole at first, until Steve is relaxed and pushing back against his face.

Bucky pushes a hand under Steve and closes it around his cock, jerking him off in time with little jabs of his tongue. Steve moans and fucks into Bucky’s fist, just as a wall of heat surrounds them. Bucky only has a second to think _wow_ before Steve comes on his hand and tongue, his body flopping down on the bed as the heat dissipates and they’re both left sweaty and panting.

“Holy shit,” Bucky mumbles, wiping at his mouth with his arm before moving up to lie down next to Steve.

Steve blinks owlishly up at him, skin red and slicked with sweat. The fire behind his eyes is gone now, leaving only satisfaction and happiness behind.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs. He reaches out a hand and clumsily pats Bucky on the chest, as if congratulating him on a good job.

Bucky accepts it with a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, questions reeling around his mind. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes them a few minutes to get themselves and everything else cleaned up, but soon enough they’re back in bed, naked and cuddling and trading sweet kisses. Bucky has a leg thrown over Steve’s hip, while Steve wraps an arm around his waist and traces patterns up and down his spine.

“So, what was that about?” Bucky asks after a few minutes, unable to keep the questions at bay. “The heat thing? Should I worry about you accidentally burning down the apartment?”

Steve flushes, but shakes his head. “It just happens sometimes, when I… But I can control it. The temperature rising is as far as it goes.”

Bucky nods. “So no bursting into flames.”

“Not when I’m having sex, no.”

Bucky chews on his bottom lip. He’s seen footage of Steve using his powers, the flames covering his hands and up to his forearms. He doesn’t know how far the fire goes, if Steve’s body could ever be covered with it, but he knows how much damage Steve can do. There is a reason why people call him one of the most powerful Firestarters the world has seen in centuries.

“Can I see it?” Bucky asks, a hushed whisper that falls between them.

Steve brings his arm up from around Bucky’s waist and raises a hand between them. From the middle of his palm, a spark of light forms, which quickly turns into a small and glowing flame.

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, and then tentatively wraps his hand around Steve’s wrist. He can feel the warmth from the fire licking against his skin, but he knows he’s safe as long as he doesn’t touch the flames. The fire illuminates the bedroom, casting a soft orange glow around their bodies. “Cool.”

“Hot, you mean,” Steve corrects him.

Bucky makes a face and flicks Steve on the arm. “You have to stop with the terrible jokes.”

“But that’s why you like me,” Steve replies with a pout, which Bucky kisses right off his face.

Or tries to, at least.

He stops short of Steve’s lips due to the small ball of fire in between them. But with a a quick snap of fingers, Steve extinguishes the fire, leaving only warmth behind.

“Just so you know,” Bucky tells him as he snuggles up close, his head tucked right under Steve’s chin, “I’m totally going to take advantage of your firestarter powers once it starts snowing.”

Steve laughs, arms closing tight around Bucky and pulling him close. “That’s okay,” he says, with a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “I’ll always keep you warm.”

 

**

 

**Bucky [9:13AM]:**

_Hey just heard back from my Ma_

_How does Saturday at 6:30p sound for u to meet my fam_

 

**Steve <3 [9:27AM]:**

_It sounds perfect :D_

_See you then <3_

 

**

 

Bucky lets out a slow breath through his lips and focuses on not passing out. He knows there is absolutely no reason for him to be this nervous, but this is kind of a big deal. His family is about to meet his _soulmate_ and his soulmate is about to meet his _family_.

It’s all of his favorite people in one room, meeting each other.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Steve comments, the teasing edge of a smile playing at his lips.

“You’ll catch me, right?” Bucky asks, squeezing Steve’s hand and trying to ignore how sweaty his palm feels. Steve must really like him if he’s letting Bucky’s clammy skin touch him.

“Of course I will,” Steve huffs in offense, and then pokes at Bucky’s cheek. “Wouldn’t want that pretty face to get hurt.”

Bucky bats Steve’s hand away, flattered but still nervous. “It’s just… this is a big deal.”

Steve’s expression softens. “I know, but it’ll be fine. I mean, Fate wouldn’t give you a soulmate for your family to hate, would they?”

Bucky opens and closes his mouth. “Oh my god, you’re right!” he grins, tension dissipating from his body. He turns around so he can smack a loud kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You’re wonderful. Thank you.”

Steve smiles. “No problem. Feeling better now?”

“Lots.” Bucky sighs and leans against Steve’s side as they walk. “I might even eat something for dinner now.”

“Like you weren’t before. You’re almost as bad as me sometimes.”

“I need my strength,” Bucky sniffs. “Being a nurse is hard work.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says with a sad smile.

Bucky is hit with the reminder that Steve’s mom used to be a nurse. If anyone knows how difficult the job can be, that’d be Steve. He doesn’t say anything, though. Instead he just kisses Steve’s shoulder through the light sweater he’s wearing and leads them to his parents’s house.

“Buchanan! Long time no see,” Becca says when she answers the door, grin going from ear to ear.

“Not long enough, Rebecca.” Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand so he can hug his sister and dig his fingers into her ribs.

“No tickling!” Becca yells and dashes away until she’s hiding behind Steve. “Steve, you have to protect me.”

“Sure,” Steve says with a glint in his eyes. “I’ll protect you.”

“Hey, no ganging up on me,” Bucky complains, torn between offense and amusement. Of course his sister would rope Steve into something without letting Bucky introduce them first.

“Sorry, Buck, but Becca knows all of your embarrassing secrets,” Steve answers with a shrug of his shoulders.

Becca grins, head peeking out from behind Steve’s arm. “I really do. And I’m willing to share if you don’t let Bucky tickle me.”

“That can be arranged,” Steve tells her, and raises a hand for a high-five.

Becca, delighted, slaps their hands together.

“You know what?” Bucky points a finger at them. “You’re both disowned. I’m gonna go say hi to the people who _really_ appreciate me.”

“I won’t appreciate you if you let all the cold air in!” Winifred yells from inside the house, a gust of wind following her words. “Now get your boyfriend inside and close the door!”

Bucky looks at the ceiling, asking for strength. Becca just giggles and then starts pushing at Steve’s back until they’re inside, and then closes the door behind them.

“Hi, I’m the good sibling, Becca Barnes.” Becca extends a hand. “Sorry my brother is so rude.”

Steve laughs and shakes Becca’s hand. “I’m Steve Rogers. And he can’t help himself, sometimes.”

“You are both the worst and letting you two meet was a huge mistake,” Bucky says, but he can’t help but smile at both of them. It fills his heart with warmth to see Steve this relaxed with his sister, and to have Becca treat him like any other person Bucky’s brought home before.

Becca blows him a kiss. “We’re your favorites.”

“No, Dad is my favorite,” Bucky argues, even though that is half a lie. All of them are his favorites, really. “He doesn’t embarrass me in front of people.”

“I can start,” George says as he meets them in the foyer, eyes twinkling as he takes in the three of them. “Hey, son.”

“Hi, Dad.” Bucky pulls him into a hug. “Please don’t. I don’t think I could survive.”

George laughs against Bucky’s ear and claps him on the back. “I’ll consider it.”

Bucky takes a deep breath when he lets go. Okay, time for the real introductions to begin. “Dad, this is Steve Rogers, my boyfriend,” he comes to stand next to Steve, grabbing hold of his hand again. Steve is tense beside him, wearing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Steve, this is my Dad, George Barnes.”

Steve straightens and gives George a sharp nod, offering a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

George shakes Steve’s hand, and then surprises everyone by tugging him close and into a half-hug. “The pleasure is mine, Steve. I’ve been waiting a long time to finally meet you.”

Bucky gapes at his father, surprised expression matched by Steve’s and Becca’s. Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever seen his Dad hug someone who wasn’t a Barnes or married to a Barnes before, and he’s certainly never seen his dad be this open with any of his boyfriends or girlfriends.

Although, to be fair, none of them had been his _soulmate_. Not that that is any guarantee that he and Steve will work out as a couple.

Bucky narrows his eyes at his Dad. He must _know_ something, which is why he’s this happy to meet Steve.

“Thank you, sir,” Steve says, voice a little faint with shock. “I… thanks.”

George claps Steve on the back once more before stepping away. “Come on, let me introduce you to Freddie.”

Steve sends a wide-eyed look at Bucky over his shoulder. Bucky shakes off his surprise and steps in, taking hold of Steve’s hand one more time and stopping his Dad in his tracks.

“How about I do that?” Bucky suggests, giving his Dad a look. “I haven’t said hi to Ma yet.”

“Sure, son,” George says, smiling at them both. “Go ahead.”

George and Becca trail after them as they make their way to the kitchen. Bucky’s mouth starts watering at the heavenly smell of homemade food wafting through the air. He knew his Ma was going to bring out the big guns for this dinner with Steve, and he has to admit that he’s kind of looking forward to that part. His Ma is the best cook and Bucky will never miss a chance to eat her food.

“Hey, Ma.” Bucky knocks on the door frame to announce their presence, although he’s sure his Ma heard them coming.

Winifred twirls around, silver necklaces dangling from her neck and getting caught in her braid. She smiles at them, big and bright and way too excited for Bucky’s taste.

“My baby!” she exclaims, rushing up to Bucky and holding his face in her soft hands. “How nice to see you.”

“Oh my god, _Ma_ ,” Bucky grumbles as blood rushes to his cheeks. “You saw me a few days ago.”

“And I’ve missed you every minute since then,” Winifred sniffs.

“I didn’t,” Becca pipes up, and Bucky doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s grinning like a loon.

“Rebecca,” Winifred admonishes her, and then turns to Bucky again. She kisses his left cheek, then the right, before going on her tiptoes and placing a kiss to his forehead. “Welcome home.”

It is a motherly blessing that spreads warmth through Bucky’s soul. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to press a kiss to her cheek in thanks, although he can’t hide the pink flush to his skin.

“Thanks, Ma. It’s good to be here.” Bucky steps away from her, but grabs one of her hands in his when they fall from his face. “Ma, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Winifred is already beaming at Steve, practically vibrating in place. When Bucky takes a second too long to say something, she hipchecks him. “Bucky, manners,” she hisses.

Bucky grins and squeezes her hand. “Ma, this is Steve Rogers, my boyfriend. Steve, this is my Ma, Winifred Barnes.”

“You can call me Freddie,” she says, already letting go of Bucky so she can walk up to Steve. “You’re practically family now.”

Bucky barely resists the urge to facepalm. As is, he sends Steve a reassuring glance from over the top of his Ma’s head, right at the same time she reaches up to grab Steve by the shoulders and pull him into a hug.

“Oh!” Steve gasps, startled, but is quick to hug her back. His expression is still filled with shock and awe, and it takes him a few seconds to recover. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. Bucky’s told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” she says, tapping Steve on the cheek and stepping back. “And no need to call me ma’am. Freddie is fine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve answers, and then blushes. “I mean, Freddie.”

Bucky snorts at Steve, only to receive a glare from his Ma.

“Now, Steve, I hope you don’t have any food allergies?” Winifred asks.

Steve shakes his head. “The serum pretty much fixed all of that.”

“Good to know.” Winifred curls a hand around his arm, and another through Bucky’s own. “Bucky, you can give Steve a tour of the house. I need to finish dinner.”

“I can give Steve a tour,” Becca offers, looking all kinds of evil.

Bucky scowls at her. She must be angling for making this tour as embarrassing as possible, and Bucky is not about to let that happen. It seems like neither is his dad.

“You’ll be with me,” George says, wrapping an arm around Becca’s skinny shoulders. “I need you to teach me how to use the Catsnap. Your Uncle Daniel keeps sending me updates on the new rocket he’s building. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“ _Dad_ , it’s _Snapchat_ ,” Becca groans, but then blinks. “A rocket? Really? Do you think it’ll blow up on him again?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at his family, though he can’t deny his heart is full. When he turns to Steve, he finds his boyfriend with a small smile on his face and only a little bit of sadness lingering in his gaze.

“Hey,” Bucky knocks their elbows together, “wanna see my room? I still have a lot of ugly posters up.”

Steve perks up in interest. “Yes. Did you do a lot of angsting there?”

“You wouldn’t believe.”

They climb up the stairs to the second floor, with Steve pausing every few steps to check out the multitude of pictures his Ma put up. He smiles at the ones of when Bucky was a baby, all pink cheeks and gummy smiles and dinosaur pajamas. The ones from when Bucky was around 13 seem to be his favorite, if only because Bucky looks all kinds of gangling and weird.

“In a few steps you’ll get to my Billy Idol phase,” Bucky warns him, not even a little bit embarrassed about it.

“Oh my god,” Steve breathes out, delighted. “Did you bleach your hair?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He just points at one of the pictures of him wearing skinny jeans, a leather jacket, and rocking his spiked up blond hair.

“I’m taking a picture of this,” Steve says, grabbing his phone and doing just that, “and keeping it forever.”

Bucky doesn’t try to stop him. He figures it’s fair, when he can find weird pictures of Steve all around the internet.

“Here we are,” Bucky says when they reach his old room, gesturing for Steve to walk inside.

Steve stares around the room like he’s committing everything to memory: from the ugly band posters to the three unsolved rubix cubes on one of the shelves to the uncomfortable familiar galaxy bedspread.

“I see some things never change,” Steve comments, glancing pointedly down at the bed.

Bucky shrugs. “I’m not going to apologize for having good taste.”

Steve snorts. He takes a seat on the bed and leans back on his elbows, taking in the room. “I like it,” he says after a few seconds. “Feels like you.”

“I had some good times here,” Bucky admits as he unceremoniously flops down on Steve’s lap. Steve grunts but moves so he can wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist. “The reason Ma and Dad haven’t turned it all into a scrying room is because I still sleep over, sometimes. If I’ve had a hard day at the hospital.”

They don’t happen often, but sometimes Bucky needs to be near his family after a particularly bad day. Seeing people hurt and dying is never easy, but having to deal with their loved ones is sometimes worse. Getting to come home to his parents and sister helps soothe the pain.

Steve places a sweet kiss to the curve of Bucky’s jaw. “I’m glad you have that.”

Bucky turns his head and nuzzles their noses together. “How are you? Still nervous?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “You were the one who was nervous,” he says, and when Bucky snorts at that, he continues, “I’m okay. I really like your sister. And your parents seem to love you both a lot.”

“They do. I’m pretty sure Ma wouldn’t hesitate to murder someone for us if we asked.”

“Gotta watch my back then.”

“I’d never ask her to murder you,” Bucky assures him with a quick kiss. “I’d do that myself.”

Steve grins and leans in for another kiss, soft and chaste. “Is it weird that I’m proud of you for that?”

Bucky laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “It’s weird that you even have to _ask_.”

Before they can say anything else, Winifred’s voice carries up the stairs when she yells, “Boys, dinner!”

“Are you ready for the inquisition?” Bucky asks as he rests their forehead together.

“I’ve fought Nazis, Buck,” Steve replies. “And I’ve faced Peggy while she was hungover. I think I can handle this.”

“If you need a save, just tug at your ear,” Bucky tells him anyway. “I’ll pretend to choke on something.”

“My hero,” Steve deadpans, but still gives Bucky a kiss on the cheek.

“Boys!” Winifred yells again. “Don’t make me send Becca after you!”

“Coming!” Bucky yells back. “You good?”

“Yes, Buck,” Steve huffs. “Are _you_?”

Bucky takes a few seconds to take stock of himself. His nerves are almost gone, especially with the reception his parents gave Steve. He trusts them and Becca. He knows they won’t ask Steve any uncomfortable questions about the war or being Captain America. Bucky’s Pops did fight in the war, so they know better than to bring up memories like that.

“Yeah,” Bucky says finally. “I’m good.”

“Can we please go, then?” Steve worries at his bottom lip, looking sheepish. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“There’s never _kinda_ with you,” Bucky mumbles, already tugging Steve by the hand and out of his room.

The delicious smell of food is even stronger as they move to the dining room. The table is set like they’re about to celebrate Christmas, not just have dinner with Steve. Bucky shouldn’t be surprised that his Ma thought to go all out. It’s not every day she gets to meet one of her kids’ soulmate, after all.

“This smells amazing, Ma,” Bucky says, taking a deep breath and fighting he urge to fall mouth first on the table.

“It really does, Freddie.” Steve nods, and then does a double take. “Is that haddock and cheddar mash?” he asks in surprise.

“It is.” Winifred claps her hands in delight. “Would you like to try some?”

“Yes, please,” Steve says, still looking a bit off guard.

Bucky bumps him with his elbow and mouths, “ _Okay_?”

Steve nods, but soon gets distracted by Winifred grabbing him a plate and serving him. “Oh, no.” Steve tries to stop her. “I can do that.”

“Not today, you can’t,” she says, leaving no room for argument. “Now sit.”

Steve obediently takes a seat next to Bucky and across from Becca on the table.

“So, Steve,” Becca starts, and Bucky is about to prepare himself for the worst when Becca asks, “Do you watch any TV shows?”

Bucky blinks and glances up at Becca, heart tugging in his chest when she winks at him. His little sister, terrible but awesome at the same time.

“Not as many as I’d like,” Steve admits, and then utters a quiet _thank you_ to Freddie when she passes him his plate, topped up with a small mountain of food. “I’ve been really into _The Good Place_ lately.”

“You’re welcome for that, by the way,” Bucky butts in.

“It is a very good show,” George says with an approving nod as he serves himself a generous plate of food.

“Does your job keep you busy a lot, Steve?” Winifred asks once she sits down, waiting for everyone to start eating before she serves herself.

“Sometimes,” Steve answers, brows furrowing a little. “We can go months without anything happening, and then have three weeks of nonstop work.”

“We’re used to odd schedules,” Winifred reassures him, like Steve needs it somehow. “Goddess knows Bucky’s is all over the place.”

“It’s important work,” is all Steve says, knocking his knee against Bucky’s under the table.

“Yes, it is,” George agrees. “And Bucky never wakes me up in the middle of the night to help cast a spell.”

“The midnight hour is the best time to do it, George,” Winifred argues. “Would you want our wards to be weak?”

Becca catches Bucky and Steve’s gaze and rolls her eyes. It earns a laugh from Bucky, and he can see Steve pressing his lips together not to laugh.

“I know someone who can help strengthen your wards, if you want,” Steve offers. “I’m sure Wanda would love to help.”

Winifred freezes at the mention of Wanda’s name, and it takes all of Bucky’s will not to laugh.

“Wanda Maximoff, you mean?” Winifred asks. “The Scarlet Witch?”

“Yes,” Steve says, and then adds, “Bucky is important to me and you’re important to Bucky. If I can help you in any way, with anything, I will.”

Bucky can practically see the heart eyes coming out of his Ma’s face, and he doesn’t miss the smug smile George is trying to hide behind a forkful of salad. He also recognizes the set of Steve’s shoulders and the look on his face: like he’s on a mission he intends to win.

“Steve,” Winifred says slowly, “I’m going to make you my special black forest cake next time you come over.”

Becca gasps, betrayed. “You didn’t even do that for me! On my _birthday_!”

Steve looks torn between happiness and guilt when he says, “That’d be lovely, Freddie.”

“It’s settled,” Winifred says with a happy smile.

Becca throws her arms up. “I quit. I can’t believe Steve is the favorite child now.”

“Your reign had to end sooner or later,” Bucky sighs. “It happened to me when you were born.”

“Nonsense,” George interrupts them. “You’re all our favorites.”

Bucky’s heart twinges at his Dad’s words, knowing this is another way of him saying that they like Steve. Even his Ma, with her cake idea, makes sure he knows Steve is accepted. Every last vestige of nerves he was feeling disappears completely, replaced instead by love for his family.

Steve also looks touched at that, head ducked and a small smile playing at his lips. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to rest a hand on Steve’s knee and give it a squeeze, conveying to him that everything is alright.

“Steve does know Wanda Maximoff, though,” Winifred jokes, and then laughs when Bucky and Becca groan at her.

All in all, it is the best Meet the Family dinner Bucky could’ve asked for.

 

**

 

Bucky almost forgets the Holidays are around the corner. The only reason he’s reminded of it is because he’s forced to decorate the nurses station with twinkly lights and paper snowflakes, to trying and make the hospital welcoming to people having a pretty shitty time during what’s supposed to be one of the happiests weeks of the year.

“Are you doing anything for the holidays?” Claire asks as she tries to untangle a few of the light strings.

“We’re visiting Grandma Barnes,” Bucky answers, fighting to get a piece of tape off his finger. “But I’m back here on the 27th, so I’ll have to catch a plane back the day before. Ugh.”

“No boyfriend?” Claire gives him a smirk.

Bucky side-eyes her. “No. He’s spending the holidays with a friend. We’re doing something this weekend, though. Like exchange gifts and stuff.”

“What did you get him?” Claire asks, and then raises her hand. “And please don’t say your dick.”

“Excuse _you_ , I’m classier than that,” Bucky argues, although he has to admit the thought crossed his mind. “I got him some fancy new art supplies. And a book on the history of animation. And one of those gravity blankets because sometimes he has trouble sleeping. And also a box of those chocolate truffles Billy shared with us when he and Teddy got married.”

Claire blinks at him, face blank. “Well, okay.”

“You don’t think it’s too much, right?” Bucky chews at his bottom lip, suddenly worried. “Because I also got him one of those dragonscale leather jackets that can withstand extreme heat because, you know, firestarter and all.”

“I think Steve will love your gifts,” Claire says, and then adds, “And if he doesn’t, dibs on the leather jacket.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and throws a balled up piece of tape at her. He knows he went a little overboard with the gifts, but this is their first holiday season together and Bucky wants to make it memorable.

Plus, Steve getting his dick at the end of the night is kind of a given.

The day passes by with surprisingly few chaotic moments. Bucky only has to spray water on a siren once before she goes back to her bed to heal, and not a single kid in the emergency room throws up on him.

It becomes a pattern for the rest of his work days this week, which kind of makes Bucky suspicious. He never trusts calm moments at the hospital, because it means something huge and shitty is about to happen soon. The calm before the storm and all that. He just hopes whatever bomb the universe is about to drop on them happens after Christmas. And that maybe he’ll get a vision warning him about it first.

At least this means Bucky isn’t as tired as usual when his 3 days off begin. He has time to clean his apartment and take care of his laundry before Steve comes over, as well as put up a tiny plastic Christmas tree next to his TV.

Bucky is distracted from the making of his hot cocoa when  his phone vibrates in his pocket. The microwave clock says it’s five past five in the afternoon, which means Steve must be on his way over.

 

**Steve <3 [5:06PM]:**

_I’m heading out_

_ETA 15min_

 

Bucky types out a _Roger that_ and laughs at himself. Steve’s gifts are already set on the coffee table, there’s takeout waiting in the oven, and Bucky’s primped and wearing a soft and cozy snowflake sweater he hopes Steve will tear off of him after dinner.

Bucky practically skips to the door when the doorbell rings. He hasn’t seen Steve since they had dinner together with his parents. Bucky misses his stupid face and dumb smile and muscled arms, which he makes sure to tell Steve as soon as he opens the door and pulls him in for a kiss.

“I missed you too.” Steve laughs against his mouth, kissing him again.

Bucky makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat when he doesn’t feel Steve’s arms wrap around him. He pulls back, noticing that Steve’s hands are rather busy holding—

“Oh my god, are those _for me_?” Bucky asks, eyes rounding in surprise and delight.

To be honest, he doesn’t really need gifts. Steve’s presence by his side is more than enough, but Bucky sure loves new boots and leather jackets and… he squints at a bag. Is that from _Burberry_?

“Yes?” Steve says, blushing a little. “I hope I didn’t go overboard.”

“My sweetheart, my doll, my honey,” Bucky grabs Steve by the arm and leads him to the living room, making a broad gesture to the gifts piled on the table, “you did not go overboard.”

Steve lets out a relieved breath, although the pink in his cheeks turns a shade deeper. “Is all of that for me?”

“Yes.” Bucky takes a few of Steve’s bags from him, trying to peek inside. “My parents sent a few things over too. And Becca said she made you something.”

Steve wrestles the bags out of Bucky’s hands with a pointed look. It is quickly transformed into one of surprise, though. “Your parents got me a gift? And Becca?”

“They like you,” Bucky tells him, giving Steve’s biceps a squeeze. “Like, a lot. Ma can’t stop texting me about when’s the next time I’m bringing you over. And Becca keeps begging me for your number, which there is no way in hell I’m giving it to her. Fuck knows what kind of weird pictures of me she’ll send you. Even Dad wants to know if you liked _The Good Place_ ’s season finale.”

Steve’s expression turns wobbly the longer Bucky speaks. “That’s…” he trails off, throat working as he swallows. Bucky almost has a heart attack when Steve’s chin trembles a bit, especially when he chokes up, “I really like your family.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs, and pulls Steve in for a hug.

Steve drops the bags on the floor and hugs him back just as tight, face hidden between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. “Say thank you to your parents for me? And Becca?”

“You can tell them yourself,” Bucky says, rubbing soothing circles up and down Steve’s back. “We’ll Facetime. Ma will be thrilled to see you and Becca will probably make fun of her and Dad for not staying in frame.”

“That sounds great,” Steve says, voice muffled by Bucky’s sweater. He places a kiss to Bucky’s neck, and Bucky fights back a shiver. “Thank you.”

Bucky tightens his hold on Steve. “Always. Now, do you want hot cocoa first, food, or gifts?”

“Hot cocoa, please.”

They cuddle on the couch and trade sticky and sweet hot cocoa kisses for the next hour. They do as Bucky suggested and call his parents, who are indeed happy about seeing Steve again, even if through a screen.

“Thank you for the gifts,” Steve tells them. “We haven’t opened them yet, but… Thank you so much.”

“You’ll like them,” Winifred says with absolute certainty. “And no need to thank us. Just enjoy yourselves.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at his Ma. “Did you scry for Steve’s gifts?”

Winifred gasps and clutches at her necklaces. “I would never.”

Behind her, George slowly nods his head and mouths, “ _She’s lying_.”

Becca appears behind them, then, grinning and waving them hello. “Hey, Steve, do you think you could give me your number?”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky says with a glare.

At the same time, Steve smiles at her and says, “Sure. I’ll get your number off Bucky’s phone later and text you.”

“Sweet!” Becca claps her hands together. “We have some things to discuss.”

Bucky groans, but lets Steve and Becca have their fun. He’s sure he’ll have a vision about them if something they discuss turns out to have negative implications for him.

They talk for a few minutes more before they say their goodbyes, with Bucky’s Ma making them promise to visit again after New Years.

“And Bucky, don’t forget our flight’s at 10 on the 24th. You’ll need to be here by 6:30 if we want to leave on time,” Winifred reminds him.

“Yeah, Ma, I know. I promise I won’t be late,” Bucky says, and then they say their goodbyes.

“Are you excited about going to Indiana?” Steve asks when they go grab the food, helping Bucky with the plates and their drinks.

“Eh.” Bucky shrugs. “It’ll be nice to see everyone, but it’s not like it’s a new and exciting experience. I was actually thinking…”

“Yes?”

“I was hoping to tell the rest of the family about the whole Captain America thing,” Bucky says as he divides the food. “They already know I have a soulmate named Steve, but not the rest. I think telling them when we’re in Indiana and miles away from you would be safer.” He frowns. “That way no one can march up to Stark Tower and demand to meet you.”

Steve snorts and shakes his head in amusement. “Whatever you think is best. I’d love to meet them all sometime, though.”

“Grandma turns 93 in April.” Bucky hands Steve a container after grabbing enough food for himself. “There’s gonna be a huge party with all the uncles and aunts and cousins and significant others.”

“I’ll put it on my calendar,” Steve says with a smile, leaning in to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Speaking of Stark Tower. Tony’s throwing a New Years party.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows at that. Everyone’s heard about Stark’s New Years Bash, and Bucky even had to treat a few guests for alcohol poisoning the next morning. “He is?”

Steve nods. “I was hoping you could come. As my date.”

“On the 31st?” Bucky asks, and when Steve nods he says, “Count me in. Does this mean I’m finally meeting all of your friends?”

“Yes. It’s time. You and I are going steady, and they’re all a big part of my life, so.”

Bucky grins slowly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re going steady?”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but he can’t fight the flush that crawls up his neck. “Yes, we are. You know that.”

“I do,” Bucky says, feeling all kinds of smug. “Just nice to hear you say it, is all.”

“There’s something else,” Steve adds. “But I think we can leave it for after dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Bucky agrees, “because I’m starving.”

It’s no surprise that Steve is too, and they’re both quick to dig in and enjoy their Polish food. Bucky is glad he served himself a plate first, because Steve’s hunger means there isn’t even a single pierogi left for Bucky to stuff in his mouth when dinner is over.

“So,” Steve starts after they’ve finished off the food, wasting no time to cuddle up to Bucky now that they’re done eating. “There’s going to be some media coverage at the party.”

It takes Bucky a few seconds to get where Steve is going with this. “Oh,” he says, resting a hand on Steve’s stomach while Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I guess we should probably talk about going public, huh?”

“I don’t want to hide you,” Steve says, jaw clenching like the mere thought of it makes him angry. “I never did. I’d still like to keep our relationship as private as possible, but I wouldn’t mind if the world knew I was dating you.”

“I feel the same,” Bucky says, trying to ignore the butterflies that flutter in his stomach.

Steve smiles a little at that and places a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips. “There are still some things to consider,” he says. “This is going to affect you. People will probably hound you a little at first, paparazzi especially. Wanda can make new charms for us, but it might go beyond you. They might go after your parents. Or Becca.”

Bucky feels a hot surge of rage climb up his spine at the thought of anyone getting near his little sister. “Okay, that’s…” he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t like that. It makes me want to punch something.”

Steve gives him a bitter smile. “I know the feeling.”

“Right,” Bucky says, blinking a few times to get his feelings under control. “Ma’s a good witch. A powerful witch. Her coven’s full of busybodies, but they all have good hearts. If Ma asks them to ward the house so anyone who’s there with less than savory intentions suddenly turns into a donkey, they’ll do it.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, horrified and a little impressed.

“Could Wanda make Becca protection charms?” Bucky asks. “We already have some from Ma, but a few more wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.”

“Okay.” Bucky takes another deep breath. They’re really going to do this. “Dad’s got the curse. He’ll have warning if someone decides to be shitty, and he’s weirdly good with a bat, so I’m not worried about him.”

“A bat?” Steve repeats, sounding a little faint.

“I know what I’m getting into,” Bucky continues. “Plus, I have Claire and Kamala and Billy. And Claire’s daredevil, because he owes us after the ninja attack at the hospital. And I have you. I also had to learn how to fight dirty if I wanted to survive summers in Indiana with my cousins, so. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Ninja attack?” Steve asks, voice pitched high.

“So, I’m good with going public,” Bucky says. “And if we do it at Tony’s party, then it means we have a little control over how and what happens.”

Steve stares at him for a few seconds without saying anything, a completely dumbfounded look on his face. “Well…” he tries after a while, having to clear his throat before he continues speaking, “I guess that settles it.”

“Good.” Bucky gives him a sharp nod and then leans in for a quick and chaste kiss. “Can we do presents now? I want to know if the huge box I saw is for new combat boots.”

It takes Steve a second, but then he bursts out laughing and pulls Bucky into a hug. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” he says, and then captures Bucky’s lips in a kiss.

It turns out, the big box really _does_ contain new combat boots. Steve also gets him a new grey wool peacoat, boxsets for all seasons of _Penny Dreadful_ , cookie scented candles, a 200 dollar gift card for _Cafae_ , some fuzzy socks, and a beautifully framed realistic sketch of Bucky with his parents and sister.

Bucky cries a little bit at the last one.

And then Bucky also cries a little bit at the face Steve makes when he starts opening _his_ presents, going from happy to touched to overwhelmed when he sees the art supplies, the gravity blanket, and the dragonscale jacket, plus the knit sweater from Bucky’s parents and the little glass shield Becca must have made him during her glass blowing class.

“Buck,” Steve rasps out, gently running his fingers through the lapels of the jacket while he holds the art supplies over the blanket draped across his lap.

“I know art is important to you,” Bucky rushes to say, “but even though you don’t really want to be an artist anymore, it doesn’t mean you gotta stop having fun with it. And I know you like being warm but don’t like being under a mountain of blankets, so I thought this could help. Guess my parents’s gift does too. And the jacket, well… the jacket just looked really cool.”

Steve chokes on a laugh and pulls Bucky into his lap, kissing him slow and deep and all-consuming. That night, in front of Bucky’s shitty Christmas tree and all of their presents, Steve gets to have his final gift: Bucky’s mouth on his dick.

 

**

 

Christmas Day at the Barneses is exactly as eventful as Bucky thought it would be. Grandma keeps sending Bucky sly looks, two of his uncles get into a fight over who’s going to lead the dinner toast, his Ma spells everyone’s cocoa mugs so they refill by themselves, and Bucky somehow ends up in charge of ten of his little cousins.

“Uncle Bucket.” Matt pats at Bucky’s cheek from his place on Bucky’s lap. “Story?”

“Do you all want stories?” Bucky asks the other kids, trying to swallow back a sigh. He loves them all, but _jeez_ , he loves being able to rest way more. The kids all nod eagerly and crowd around him, bright little eyes staring up at him and waiting for him to get a move on. That’s when Bucky gets an idea. “How about I tell you guys a secret instead?”

The kids look even more excited at the prospect of knowing something the other adults don’t. Bucky waves them closer, and in between whispers and giggles, he tells them about his soulmate.

It’s easy to do it like this, Bucky realizes. The kids don’t have the same kind of expectations as the rest of his family. They’re just excited that Bucky gets to have a soulmate who can protect him from aliens and bad guys.

The kids’s easy acceptance of Steve does a lot to settle Bucky’s nerves when dinner comes along. He makes sure to give a heads up to his parents and Becca about what he wants to do, so after dinner is done and everyone is seconds away from slipping into a food coma, they are by his side when Bucky stands up and says he has an announcement to make.

“Are you going to tell them your secret, Bucky?” Gracie, one of his little cousins, whispers, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I am.” Bucky smiles at her, tense shoulders relaxing a bit when she gives him a toothy smile and two thumbs up.

“Well, boy, go ahead,” Grandma Barnes tells him. “We all want to know who your soulmate _really is_.”

“Mother,” George sighs, but doesn’t say anything else when Grandma just scowls at him.

Bucky loves his family, but _honestly_.

“Kids,” Bucky calls out to them, figuring he can have a little help if Grandma’s going to be like this. “How about you say it with me? On the count of 3? 1, 2, 3…”

Bucky barely finishes counting when all the kids yell, “Bucky’s soulmate is Steve Rogers!”

Bucky grins at them, claps, and then turns to the flabbergasted faces of the rest of his family. “Yes, my soulmate is Steve Rogers. Yes, he’s Captain America. No, I will not ask him to sign anything for you. And no, I will not answer questions about his time in the war or how he likes the new century. He’s my soulmate, not a show pony.”

There are a few seconds of silence while his family stares at him like he’s grown another head. Bucky can feel the warmth of his parents at his back and the soft touch of Becca’s hand on his arm, so he stands his ground instead of running out the door like he wants to.

“Why would we think Steve is a pony?” Gracie breaks the silence, frowning up at her mother.

That’s enough to shake people out of their stupor and break out laughing, much to Bucky’s relief.

“As if we would ever treat one of us like that,” Grandma grumbles, and then points a finger at Bucky. “You can damn well be sure this family respects one another, your Steve included.”

Bucky doesn’t bring up the fights or arguments or the fact that Grandma Barnes is known to be pushy and not at all respectful, because he knows her words are a warning for the rest of the family. Instead he just smiles at her in thanks and then promptly flops down on his seat again.

“I’m proud of you,” Winifred whispers to him as she drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“You did good, son,” George says, squeezing him on the shoulder.

“I just want you to know,” Becca starts as she sits down next to him, her phone in her hand, “I filmed this and sent it to Steve.”

Bucky groans and closes his eyes.

Well, at least the worst is over.

 

**

 

**Steve <3 [7:06PM]:**

_Hey I’m proud of you!_

_I know that’s a weight off your shoulders_

_Also the kids looked really cute :D_

_A+ plan to make sure everyone was caught off guard_

_My boyfriend the strategist_

 

**Bucky [7:13PM]:**

_That’s u u dope_

_At least now everyone knows_

_Means we’re ready for New Years_

 

**Steve <3 [7:22PM]:**

_I can’t wait to kiss you at midnight_

 

**Bucky [7:23PM]:**

_Who says i’m letting u kiss me_

 

**Steve <3 [7:23PM]:**

_You are right???_

_It’s tradition_

_Buck c’mon_

_Bucky????_

 

**

 

Bucky finishes tying off his waterfall braid, taking a look at himself in the mirror. His hair is braided back on the left side of his head, with a few strands left loose to frame his jaw and cheekbones. The black and white polka dot button down he’s wearing stretches tight across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing his lean muscles and complementing his black skinny jeans. He has on his new combat boots that Steve gifted him for Christmas, as well as his new grey peacoat ready to go. He’s also made sure to wear his best, reddest, and tightest boxer briefs for the occasion.

He looks good, if he does say so himself. Not very New Years Eve-y, but hot.

Bucky still has a few minutes before Steve arrives, which he spends carefully lining his eyes and applying a little bit of lip balm. There is no excuse for chapped lips when he’s got Steve to kiss at midnight, especially when they’ll be in front of all of Steve’s friends _and_ the media.

A rush of nerves slithers down Bucky’s spine and coils in his stomach at the thought.

Bucky reminds himself he’s ready for this. He knows what he’s doing. He and Steve have talked about how it’s all going to go down, and Bucky has already talked to his parents about what’s going to happen. They have the full support of the Barnes clan and the Avengers at their back.

Everything is going to be _fine_. They’re going to do this and Bucky is going to get his midnight kiss and hopefully some midnight dick as well.

He’s still trying to convince himself of that as he takes the elevator down to meet Steve, making sure to button his coat to protect himself from the chilly December winds of New York City. It’s easy to spot Steve in the empty street, his broad shoulders covered by a light winter jacket.

Bucky doesn’t stop himself from rushing to Steve and hugging him tight, body shivering at the warmth of Steve’s body against his cold skin. “Never let me go, please. You’re so warm.”

Steve chuckles and squeezes his waist. “Might be a little hard to get into the car like that.”

“I’m sure we can make it.” Bucky tucks his cold nose to the side of Steve’s neck, smiling a little when Steve hisses. “Sorry, just… you’re really warm.”

“C’mon.” Steve takes a step backwards, taking Bucky with him. “Let’s get into the car. You can hug me to your heart’s content later.”

Bucky sighs and pulls back, but not before kissing Steve hello. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I think I’ll be the one doing the holding,” Steve teases and nuzzles their noses together.

Bucky lets out a low whistle at the sleek black car parked a block from his place. “This isn’t yours, is it?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tony’s. He also lent us his driver. Thanks, Happy.”

“No problem, Captain.” Happy smiles and holds the door open for them. “Ready to go?”

Bucky keeps Steve to his promise and cuddles up to him the entire drive to Stark Tower. It’s easy not to worry about the life changing decision they’re about to make when Steve holds him close and gives him soft kisses every few minutes. It also helps cement the idea in Bucky’s mind that they’re both doing the right thing.

“Before we get there,” Steve says, letting go of Bucky’s waist so he can fish something out of his pocket. “Here. A gift from Wanda.”

Bucky stares at the threaded red bracelet in the palm of his hand. He can feel the faint tingle of magic woven through the threads, the power of it tickling his skin. “Bless Wanda.”

Steve chuckles. “They’ll blur our faces if anyone tries to take our picture without our consent.”

“But if we’re cool with it?”

“The magic will respect our wishes.”

“Nice.” Bucky slips the bracelet on. “Remind me to thank her.”

“You can do it now,” Steve says, tilting his chin to the window. “We’re here.”

Bucky catches a glimpse of the glowing monstrosity that is Stark Tower before they head to the underground parking lot. Steve holds his hands all the up to where the party is being hosted, a silent show of support that Bucky keeps close to his heart.

“Ready?” Steve asks as the elevator doors open.

Bucky flashes him a quick smile. “As I’ll ever be.”

The room is alive with music and conversation, although no one pays attention to Steve and Bucky as they walk through the crowd. There are balloons floating across the ceiling, a packed dance floor right in front of the stage where a band is playing, and a catering table so filled with food Bucky is already thinking if he can ask for a box to take some of it home.

“Steve!” Sam yells as he makes his way over, dragging a tall black man behind him by the hand while shielding him from other people with one of his wings.

“Hey, Sam.” Steve grins, letting go of Bucky’s hand so he can pull Sam into a hug. “Your Highness,” Steve nods at the man behind Sam, looking pleased as punch to see them both together.

“Captain,” the man says, eyes flashing gold for a second. “I already told you to call me T’Challa.”

“T’Challa,” Steve repeats, and then turns to Bucky, “this is my boyfriend Bucky Barnes. Bucky, you’ve met Sam before.”

“How have you been?” Bucky asks, raising an eyebrow at the way Sam’s wing is draped over T’Challa’s shoulders.

Sam grins. “Never better.”

“And this is King T’Challa of Wakanda,” Steve continues the introductions.

Sam, not missing an opportunity, tackles on, “ _My_ boyfriend.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. He’s heard of Wakanda before and its long line of panther shifters, as well as the nation’s incredible work in advanced medical technology. “Your Highness,” Bucky rushes to say, giving a little bow. “It’s an honor.”

“There is no need for that.” T’Challa waves him off with a kind smile. “And the honor is mine. I’ve heard a lot about you from Captain Rogers.”

“If I can call you T’Challa, you can call me Steve,” Steve tells him, but Bucky doesn’t miss the flush on his cheeks. “And Bucky is worthy of being talked about.”

“That’s really gross, Steve,” Sam pipes up, but the big smile on his face betrays his true feelings.

Steve narrows his eyes. “Like you ever shut up about _your_ boyfriend.”

T’Challa smiles at that, eyes turned gold and teeth a little sharper than usual. “Is that so?”

Sam opens and closes his mouth a few times before he points a finger at Steve, but he doesn’t say anything aside from, “We’re going away now,” before leading T’Challa to the dancefloor.

Steve snickers and leans in against Bucky’s side, and Bucky is happy to snake an arm around Steve’s waist and hold on.

“You’re a terrible friend,” Bucky teases, earning a smile from Steve. “Is that the royal dude Sam didn’t know what to do about?” he asks, remembering their long ago conversation on the subject.

“Yup.” Steve nods. “Turns out my advice on following your heart worked great for Sam.”

Bucky glances around the room, and when he sees people are still not paying attention to them, he pecks Steve on the lips. “Worked great for us too.”

Steve’s smile turns sappy and soft at the corners, but freezes on his face when someone calls out to them.

“Hey, Capsicle!” Tony Stark yells as he approaches, drawing people’s eyes to him and, in consequence, to Steve and Bucky. “Glad you could make it.”

“Of course.” Steve claps Tony on the shoulder, although he looks a little more tense than he did before.

Bucky sort of feels the same way, acutely aware of the stares they’re getting. He can see one of the photographers angle his camera their way, and then scoff when he realizes he can’t focus on Steve and Bucky’s faces.

Bucky bites back a smile. He really needs to thank Wanda.

“Is this the boyfriend?” Tony turns to Bucky, not waiting for an answer before he’s shaking Bucky’s hand and giving him a once over. “Very nice. I love the braid.”

“Thank you.” Bucky blinks, caught a little off guard. Which is why he probably blurts out, “Your facial hair looks very symmetrical.”

There is a second of silence from Tony before he bursts out laughing, Steve following along with him. Bucky, meanwhile, wonders if he can find Wanda soon and ask her to delete the last 30 seconds of his life.

“That’s a compliment. I’ll take it,” Tony says, smiling wide. “It’s good that you’re here, that you’re both doing this. It’s a honor you picked my party to announce your undying love for each other.”

“Tony—” Steve tries to interrupt, entire face red.

Bucky is not that far behind him as the blood rush to cheeks. They haven’t really said those words to each other: _I love you_. It feels too early in their relationship for something like that to be said. While he does like Steve more than pretty much everyone else in his life, Bucky doesn’t think he’s at the _I love Steve Rogers_ stage of their relationship just yet.

He’s close to it, _pretty_ close, but not yet.

“I’m serious,” Tony cuts him off. “I know this is a big deal for both of you, so if it gets to be too much and you need a break or if someone is a jerk to you about it, let me know and I’ll take care of it.”

Steve’s embarrassment turns to bemusement in a flash at Tony’s words. “You’re not suiting up and having a dance off while blasting away at champagne bottles, Tony. Pepper and Rhodey will murder you.”

“Bruce will save me,” Tony argues.

“Bruce will do no such thing,” a man that walks by them says, stopping at Tony’s shoulders and lifting a plate filled with food. “I’m only here to grab some food and then I’m going back to the lab.”

“You’re so boring,” Tony sighs, and then narrows his eyes. “Are you working on something without me?”

“Hey, Bruce,” Steve cuts in before Bruce can answer. “Have you met my boyfriend? This is Bucky. Bucky, this is Dr. Bruce Banner.”

Bruce looks relieved at the change of subject. He gives Bucky a small smile and waves a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Bucky waves back, and then glances down at Bruce’s plate. “Is the food any good?”

Tony sputters a little, looking offended, but Bruce is the one that answers, “The best. The mini quiches are my favorites.”

Bucky looks expectantly up at Steve, who sighs and wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Guess that’s where we’re going. It was nice to see you guys.”

“You too,” Bruce says, while Tony is too distracted following behind him and asking what he’s working on to bother with goodbyes.

“Ooooohhh,” Bucky says when they get to the catering table. “They’re not too fancy for pigs in a blanket. _Nice_.”

“There are some mini burgers at the end over there,” Steve points out with disinterest, like Bucky somehow missed him stuffing a quiche into his mouth.

“We should get drinks too,” Bucky says, glancing around for the bar.

“No need,” says someone right into Bucky’s ear.

Bucky almost drops all of his food when he startles and jumps towards Steve, heart racing in his chest. Natasha smiles at him like he’s absolutely made her whole night, and then hands him one of the glasses she’s holding.

“This is not poisoned, is it?” Bucky can’t help but ask, tentatively taking the glass.

Natasha snorts. “Like I would ever be that obvious.”

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s reassured or not, but he figures the last he can do is be polite. “Thank you.”

Natasha pats him on the shoulder and then hands the other glass to Steve. “It’s some of the Asgardian mead leftover from last time,” she says. “So be careful.”

Steve perks up and takes a sip, shuddering a little. “Thanks.”

“Asgardian mead?” Bucky asks.

“It’s the only thing that can get me drunk,” Steve explains. “Thor brings it over whenever he comes visit, which—”

“He should be here soon,” Natasha tells him. “At least that’s what the raven he sent over said.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “He sends you guys ravens? That’s amazing.”

“Better than the dispatcher arrows Clint loves so much,” Steve grumbles.

“You just say that because he hit you in the ass one time,” Natasha says with a smirk.

“He _what_?” Bucky gasps, turning around to face Steve. “Where is he? I’m gonna fight him.”

No one gets to harm Steve’s perfect bubble butt. No one except Bucky.

“Bucky.” Steve laughs, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m fine.”

Bucky pouts. “But your butt.”

“My butt is fine,” Steve says, leaning in for a quick kiss. “You’ve seen it.”

“Thank you for the insightful information,” Natasha pipes up, “but I don’t actually need to know that.”

“Is Clint here, though?” Bucky asks her. “He needs to know Steve’s butt is off limits.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” comes a muffled voice from… somewhere on the floor.

Natasha sighs and crouches down, grabbing the end of the tablecloth and lifting it up. “Clinton.”

Clint blinks at her from where he’s hiding under the table. There are an assortment of plates filled with food all around him, as well as an entire bottle of vodka. “Natalia,” he says, slowly holding out a mini burger for her as an offering.

Natasha takes it, but doesn’t take a bite. “You should at least say hello to Steve’s boyfriend.”

Clint turns to Bucky and waves. “‘Sup.”

Bucky tries his best not to laugh, but by the way Clint’s lips twitch, he knows he’s not that successful. “Hey.”

“Why are you hiding?” Steve asks, his eyes narrowed as he stares down at Clint.

“I might have rigged the confetti,” Clint admits.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Of course you did. Do we need to be worried?”

Clint shakes his head. “It’s still paper. Just… a different kind than the usual stuff.”

“Go on and enjoy the party,” Natasha tells Steve and Bucky, right before ducking under the table. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Bucky watches in amusement as Natasha lets the tablecloth fall, hiding her and Clint from view. “Your friends are weird,” he tells Steve with a smile.

“I know,” Steve sighs. “And you haven’t even met Thor yet.”

“I bet he’s the most well adjusted of you lot,” Bucky comments. “Think we can find Wanda?”

“Yeah.” Steve scans the room like a man on a mission. When he finds his target, he grabs Bucky by the hand and tugs.

“Careful with the food!” Bucky warns him, trying to keep all of his quiches intact.

Priorities, he totally has them.

Wanda smiles when she sees them and then winks when she catches a glimpse of the bracelets around their wrists. “I take it you’re enjoying my present.”

“Thank you so much, oh my god,” Bucky says, and then totally forgets himself and reaches out to hug her. “You have no idea how helpful this is.”

Wanda stiffens a bit in his arms, but is quick to pat him on the back and laugh. “I can guess.”

Bucky is blushing a little when he pulls back. “Sorry, just… thank you, really. Here,” he offers her his plate, “have something.”

Wanda looks from Bucky to Steve, as if not knowing what to do.

“Bucky doesn’t share food,” Steve starts saying, much to Bucky’s embarrassment, “so this is considered an honor.”

“Excuse _you_ ,” Bucky hisses at him. “I share food with you _all the time_.”

Steve snickers while Wanda laughs at both of them.

“Thank you, Bucky,” Wanda says, eyes kind. “And I’m glad I could do something to help you both.”

Steve reaches out and pulls her into a sideways hug, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks, kid.”

Wanda wrinkles her nose up at him, but doesn’t complain. They spend some time with her, chatting and eating from Bucky’s plate. At some point Sam and T’Challa join them, flushed with sweat and breathing hard from dancing. Bucky briefly considers dragging Steve to the dancefloor, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, thunder roars outside.

“Thor’s here.” Sam grins, glancing down at his watch. “Just in time, too.”

“Friends!” Thor exclaims when he walks into the room, arms open wide and a big smile on his face. “And other tiny humans. I hear there’s a party going on.”

“It is one now that you’re here!” a woman yells, and then laughs when Thor winks and gives her finger guns.

“Oh my god,” Bucky whispers, awed. “Thor is a party bro.”

Sam laughs so hard at that he cries a little. “You should see Steve when he’s drunk.”

Bucky gasps and turns to his boyfriend, torn between horror and fascination. “I cannot believe you.”

“I’m not that bad,” Steve tries to protest.

“Steven!” Thor says when he gets to them. He doesn’t hesitate to pull Steve into a hug and lift him off the floor, right before smacking a loud kiss to the side of Steve’s head. “It’s good to see you. I believe you were bringing your soulmate with you tonight?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Bucky gapes while Steve blushes and sputters a little. He can’t believe this. Thor is a party bro and _he knows who Bucky is_.

“This is him,” Steve says, dropping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Bucky. Thor.”

“Hi,” Bucky breathes out, not even bothering to hide how dreamy he sounds.

Thor beams at him, and Bucky almost expires right then and there when Thor wraps his huge arms around him and tugs him into a hug.

“Bucky!” Thor squeezes him. “What an odd little name.”

“Says Thor,” Bucky rasps out.

“A joker too,” Thor laughs, and then sets Bucky on the floor. Bucky sways a little, happy when Steve rushes to him and wraps an arm around his waist. Thor stares at them both, happy smile turning into something softer. “Congratulation on finding each other,” Thor says. “It is not everyone who is blessed with another soul that complements their own.”

Bucky’s throat closes up a little. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and doesn’t fight the urge to pat Thor on his huge bicep. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” Steve says with a smile, glancing at Bucky. “I’m lucky to have him.”

“I’ll say.” Thor frames Bucky’s head with his hands, eyeing him critically. “He is obviously skilled with his hands. Waterfall braids are hard to get right.”

Bucky presses his lips together and does his best to keep his face neutral, but he can’t stop the blood rushing to his cheeks. Thor thinks he’s _skilled_.

“Yes, he…” Steve’s expression twists before smoothing out again. “Bucky knows what to do with his hands.”

“This is the best conversation I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life,” Sam pipes up, “but I’m done. T’Challa, another dance?”

“Yes!” Thor answers before T’Challa can. “Let’s all dance and drink and fight each other and that ugly dog statue over there.”

Thor is gone before anyone can say anything, sure steps taking him right to the dancefloor. Sam and T’Challa soon follow, with a laughing and amused Wanda trailing behind them.

“Steve,” Bucky pokes him in the chest a few times, “I think Thor is my favorite.”

Steve scowls and holds Bucky closer. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite boyfriend,” Bucky patiently explains. “But Thor just might be my favorite everything else.”

Steve’s scowl turns into a glare, and he looks like he’s ten seconds away from marching to Thor and picking a fight. Bucky presses his lips not to laugh and then nuzzles his nose against Steve’s cheeks.

“Buck,” Steve mutters, like he knows Bucky’s trying to sweeten him up.

“How about we go dance,” Bucky suggests, placing soft and sweet kisses to the curve of Steve’s jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, “and have fun, and kiss when the clock strikes midnight, and then you take me up to your floor and I show you just how much I like having you as my boyfriend.”

Steve gazes down at him, eyes dark. “I can do that,” he says, and then scrunches his nose up a little. “I’m not the best dancer, though.”

Bucky pecks him on the lips. “Just follow my lead.”

It’s not difficult to get Steve moving to the rhythm of any song when Bucky has his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist and a leg in between his thighs. Steve has no problem following every roll of Bucky’s hips and dancing along, his arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck and keeping him close.

Sam and T’Challa are in a similar position a few feet beside them, their foreheads pressed together as they dance and smile. Thor twirls Wanda around and then dips her, and then laughs in delight when she does the same to him with the help of her magic, red tendrils curling around Thor’s back and making sure he doesn’t fall on the floor. Tony is between Rhodey and Pepper, dancing at the same time he holds a phone in his hand and argues about something with Bruce. Natasha and Clint are nowhere to be seen.

“Are you ready for the countdown?” someone yells, and everyone cheers.

“Hi.” Bucky grins up at Steve, shivering a little when Steve tangles his hand through his hair.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve whispers, bumping their noses together.

“Ten!”

Bucky laughs at soft brush of Steve’s lips against his. “Kissing isn’t until midnight.”

“Nine!”

“Is that so?” Steve raises an eyebrow at him, using the hand in Bucky’s hair to pull him closer.

“Eight!”

“Yup,” Bucky says, a little breathless. “But you can change my mind.”

“Seven!”

Steve gives him a slow smile filled with mirth. “Is that so?” he says again.

“Six!”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, tilting his head up for a kiss.

“Five!”

Bucky stops and frowns when the kiss doesn’t come, displeasure giving way to mock annoyance when he finds Steve just standing there, grinning at him.

“Four!”

“Ugh, just come here, you big lug,” Bucky says, and pulls Steve in for a kiss.

“Three!”

Steve laughs against his mouth but kisses back, hand tight on Bucky’s hair and lips soft on Bucky’s own.

“Two!”

Bucky deepens the kiss, flicking his tongue against Steve’s bottom lip and licking into his mouth, moaning softly at the taste of him. He gives himself to the heat of Steve’s mouth for a moment, wishing they were up in Steve’s apartment and not here surrounded by people.

“One! Happy New Year!”

They stop kissing long enough to grin at each other, cheeks flushed and lips red.

“Happy New Year, doll,” Bucky says with another sweet kiss.

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” Steve goes to kiss him again, but stops when a bit of paper falls on his nose. “What…”

The piece is the size of penny, and hundreds more like it fall from the ceiling in a shower of multicolored paper. Bucky grabs one from where it’s stuck in Steve’s hair, and then almost busts a lung when he starts laughing.

“This is amazing,” Bucky wheezes, staring down at a mini picture of Tony Stark dressed up in a bunny suit.

Steve takes one look at it and joins in, clutching at his stomach because he’s laughing so hard. Sam is much in the same situation, hanging off T’Challa’s arm as he tries to catch his breath, while T’Challa does his best to look like there’s nothing funny about this.

“Clint!” Tony yells from the middle of the dance floor, squirming away from Rhodey and Pepper in search of him.

“Do you know—” Sam tries to ask, still laughing too much to get the words out.

“Tony traded Clint’s boomerang arrows for bubblegum ones,” Wanda answers. “I think this is payback.”

“It is,” Clint says as he pops out from between the crowd, Natasha at his heels. “And you never saw us,” he adds, making jazz hands at them.

“What he said,” Natasha says, stopping to fish something from Steve’s back pocket. “I’ll make it up to you.”

They both disappear before Steve can say anything.

“Well, there goes my parking lot access card,” Steve sighs.

“Does this mean we live here now?” Bucky asks, only half teasing. He wouldn’t mind trading his shitty apartment for Steve’s floor at the Tower.

“I did promise to show you my apartment,” Steve reminds him, eyes glinting in interest.

“Everyone,” Bucky turns to Steve’s friends, “it was lovely to meet you, but we’re leaving now.”

“Godspeed, my friends.” Thor waves them goodbye. “May you enjoy whatever it is that you’re doing.”

 _Oh,_ Bucky thinks, _they sure as fuck will_.

 

**

 

“I didn’t know you could bend that way,” Bucky gasps as he slips from between Steve’s legs, entire body trembling.

“ _I_ didn’t know I could bend that way,” Steve pants, and then glances down at himself, cock still hard and curving against his stomach. “I feel sticky.”

Bucky snorts. “You are sticky. Wanna do that to me now?”

“Hell yeah.” Steve scrambles for the lube, pouring a generous amount on the palm of his hand. “Ready?”

“Slick me up, buttercup,” Bucky tells him, spreading his legs.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” Steve asks, making sure the insides of Bucky’s thighs are slippery and wet.

“Okay, that feels disgusting,” Bucky complains, nose scrunched up as he stares down at himself.

“Gonna feel better in just a minute,” Steve promises, kissing Bucky’s shoulder as he curves himself around Bucky’s back and lines up his cock between the tight clutch of Bucky’s thighs. “Yeah, fuck.”

Bucky snorts, keeping his legs closed and giving Steve enough space to fuck into. He can feel Steve’s cock slide between his legs and bump against his balls, but he can’t say it does a lot for him. At least until Steve wraps a loose hand around his sensitive dick, thumbing at the head.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky cries out, not knowing if he wants to shy away from the touch or lean into it. He’s already come once between Steve’s thighs and he isn’t sure if he can do it again.

Steve mouths at his neck, nipping at his pulse point and soothing the hurt with soft kisses. “Okay?”

“Hnng, hurts,” Bucky gasps, oversensitive and loving it, “but good. Please don’t stop.”

Steve doesn’t, moving his hand in time with his thrusts. Bucky feels himself getting hard again, though not all the way, the sharp sting of pleasure sending sparks down his spine. He loves this kind of hurt, loves Steve’s hand on him, loves that he can let go and enjoy himself like this with his soulmate.

“Close,” Steve grunts, bumping his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder, hips snapping as he fucks in between Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky brings a hand down to Steve’s hip, urging him on, while he gives himself to the feeling of Steve’s hand around him. “C’mon,” Bucky murmurs. “Come for me, honey, mess me up.”

Steve lets out a sharp gasp and tips over the edge, spilling all over Bucky’s skin. He slumps forward, nose tucked against Bucky’s shoulder, hand still wrapped around Bucky’s dick.

Bucky makes a tiny little noise of protest and takes his hand off Steve’s side. He places it over Steve’s hand on his cock instead, moaning as he starts moving their palms together to bring himself off.

“You want it again, huh?” Steve murmurs, voice rough and hungry, just as he tightens his hold around Bucky.

Bucky whimpers, “Please.”

“I got you,” Steve promises with a kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “I’ll give you what you need.”

And Steve does, with his hand around Bucky’s cock, wringing another orgasm from him a few seconds later. Bucky shakes as he comes down from his high, sticky and sweaty and so completely worked over he can’t form words. Steve seems to get it, though, because a few minutes later they’re both clean and lying down on fresh sheets with Steve’s new gravity blanket draped over them.

“You are the best boyfriend in the entire world,” Bucky mumbles, face smushed against Steve’s pecs.

“I know,” Steve replies, all kinds of smug.

Bucky pokes him in the pec, and then pets Steve’s chest. “Maybe tomorrow you can actually give me a tour of the place.”

Steve huffs, scratching at Bucky’s scalp. “Sure. Like I’m the one who attacked you and ripped your clothes off as soon as we got past the door.”

“Yes.” Bucky rubs his cheek on Steve’s chest. “You’re the one who did that.”

Steve flicks Bucky’s ear. “Hey, Buck.”

“Uh?”

Steve presses his lips to Bucky’s hairline. “Happy New Year.”

Bucky smiles and kisses Steve right on the nipple. “Happy New Year, Steve.”


	4. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** for this chapter: discussions about Steve's struggle with PTSD + his triggers + past suicidal ideation that lead to the crashing of the Valkyrie, some blood, explicit sex, Steve suffering a mild panic attack due to one of his triggers, more discussions about Steve's past suicidal ideation + his recovery process, and a HAPPY ENDING! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

January starts like it is going to be the best year of Bucky’s life.

He actually gets to see Steve’s apartment, for one. They wake up on New Year's Day tangled up in bed, with Steve drooling a little on Bucky’s chest and Bucky with his hand firmly cupped around one of Steve’s buttcheeks.

It’s the perfect way to start the morning as far Bucky is concerned. That still doesn’t stop him from kissing Steve’s forehead and getting off the bed so he can snoop around the place, smiling softly at the warm and earthy tones that make up Steve’s apartment, the comfortable furniture, and the beautiful paintings strategically hung all over the walls.

Steve finds him in the kitchen an hour later, putting the finishing touches on their breakfast spread. Bucky glances at him from over his shoulder, smile still in place when Steve stops still at the sight of Bucky in his space, almost like he forgot Bucky was there at all.

“Hi,” Steve murmurs, voice soft and still a bit rough from sleep. He comes up to Bucky and hugs him from behind, chin tucked over Bucky’s shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I am.” Bucky turns his head to kiss Steve on the cheek. “Food’s almost ready. Get the plates for us?”

Steve hums and kisses Bucky’s neck, giving his hips a squeeze before letting go and going about setting the table. They eat breakfast together, playing footsie under the table and trading sweet kisses whenever they like.

Not even the picture of him and Steve side by side, smiling at the camera with their arms wrapped around each other, flanked by Sam and Natasha on either side, with Clint, Tony, Bruce, Pepper and Rhodey around them and Thor grinning in the background, gracing the front page of several websites is enough to dampen the mood. Bucky’s name is already out to the press and people are interested, but a statement from Steve with Pepper’s backing has made sure they haven’t been bothered just yet.

So they spend the day together at Steve’s place, enjoying each other’s company, away from the world.

Like Bucky thought, this is going to be the best year of his life.

 

**

 

“This is the worst year of my life,” Bucky groans, stomping his boots on the cold locker room floor and trying to get the feeling back on his toes.

The first snowstorm of the year has come and gone, cold as fuck and unforgiving, and now Bucky’s left to deal with the consequences. He almost slipped at least three different times on his way to work _and_ now he has snow all over his coat.

At least the snow means he doesn’t have to deal with the paparazzi, not that they can really get any good pictures of him and Steve — still courtesy of Wanda’s charms. The storm chased away the two or three photographers dumb enough to try and stalk his parents’s place while his Ma’s wards cursed the rest into submission. There is still the problem of them loitering in front of Bucky’s building, but Claire’s friend from the NYPD, Misty Knight, has done a pretty good job of taking care of that.

Still, Bucky would rather not have to deal with any of it: vultures _or_ snow.

“Your boyfriend is a firestarter,” Kamala grumbles. “You don’t get to complain.”

“He isn’t here now, though.” Bucky shivers. “I think my toes are going to fall off.”

“I’ll stitch them back for you,” Billy offers, giving Bucky a considering look. “Do you think Steve would come here and fire up if you asked him to? Then this place would feel less like a freezer.”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky scoffs. “He’s not our own personal heater.”

“Just be glad we’re not in the morgue,” Claire sighs. “And Janine said there’s hot coffee in the lounge, if we want to warm up.”

Kamala shudders. “Sludge coffee.”

“Want to cover my rounds, then?” Claire raises an eyebrow at her. “Running around the hospital will warm you up.”

Kamala’s eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I’m cool. Sludge coffee is life.”

“We’ll be going now,” Billy says, grabbing Kamala by the arm. “To do own our rounds. And drink the best hospital coffee ever made. Bye.”

Bucky snorts. “That was mean.”

“We all hate winter,” Claire says, and then scowls. “And this stupid locker room.”

Bucky pats her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry you don’t have your own firestarter boyfriend to warm you up.”

Claire side-eyes him, unamused. “You keep that up and I’ll make sure you get Mr. Schmidt’s chart on your pile today.”

Bucky gapes in horror, hand flying to clutch at his chest. “You wouldn’t.”

Mr. Schmidt is a demon. Both in species and disposition. He never wastes an opportunity to be an absolute dick to the nurses and always makes treating him as difficult as possible.

“Try me.”

“Like I said, _mean_.”

Claire gives him a slight smile and punches him on the shoulder. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

And so they do. The aftermath of the first snowstorm of the year means an increase in stupid injuries: falls and slips that lead to broken bones, car accidents because of the icy roads, and a few heart attacks from people who decide they can shovel snow when the most exercise they do throughout the year is carry groceries.

Bucky gets through his three days on shift with lots of patience, minimal crying, and a few shots of espresso with a dose of good luck. It means that by the final hour of the third day, he’s paying the price by accidentally dropping his sandwich on the floor, tripping on a backpack someone left unattended on the floor, getting his scrubs caught on the edge of the reception counter and ripping a huge chunk off the top half of his uniform.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Bucky despairs, throwing his cup of espresso with good luck in the garbage.

Magic always demands a price.

At least there are no accidents on his way back home, and there are no people waiting to shove cameras in his face when he gets to his building. Bucky drags his feet and almost tears up a little when he opens the door to his apartment, all of the tension and worry from the past few hours dissipating at the sight of his safe place.

Bucky kicks off his boots and fishes his phone out of his pocket, not even bothering to check the time before he makes a call.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he answers, tone laced with concern.

“I had the worst day,” Bucky whines, and then promptly flops down face first on his bed.

“Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”

“I’m not hurt. _Physically_ ,” Bucky complains, sniffling a little. “But I’m cold and exhausted and I dropped my sandwich on the floor. It was a _good_ sandwich. It had that fancy ham my Ma bought for me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve says softly, although he sounds suspiciously like he’s trying really hard not to laugh. “Want me to come over?”

“Yes, please,” Bucky sniffs again, turning around so he’s curled up on his side on the bed. “Can you spend the night?”

“I can sleep over, if that’s what you mean,” Steve answers. Bucky can hear the shuffling sounds of Steve moving around his place. “There aren’t that many hours left in the night.”

Bucky frowns, glancing at his alarm clock for the first time since getting home. The numbers _5:00_ blink back at him. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry. Did I wake you up? Go back to bed. I’m fine. It’s fine, you don’t need to come over.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Steve reassures him. “Couldn’t sleep anyway. I could use the company, if you don’t mind.”

Bucky makes a little sad sound at that. He knows nightmares still plague Steve every once in a while, making it hard for him to rest.

“I don’t mind,” Bucky murmurs. “Sorry I called you so late, though.”

Steve lets out a low laugh. “It’s fine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

Bucky starfishes on the bed after Steve hangs up. He’s tired as fuck and his muscles ache from the cold, but he forces himself to get up and brew some chamomile tea. It probably won’t do either of them any good, but Bucky finds that a warm drink when he’s upset always helps a little.

He also changes into his flannel pajamas, because _fuck_ if he’s going to stay in his gross outside clothes.

Steve smiles at him when he arrives, opening his arms up for Bucky as soon as he’s past the door. Bucky practically face plants on Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist under his coat and burrowing into his warmth.

“You’re the best person in the entire world,” Bucky declares, stiff muscles relaxing little by little.

Steve presses a light kiss to his temple. “I try.”

“You succeed,” Bucky mumbles, voice muffled by Steve’s chest. “I made us some tea. You can go change into your jammies while I get our mugs, and then we can hop in bed and you can tell me why you couldn’t sleep?”

Steve sighs, breath tickling the shell of Bucky’s ear. “We could skip that last part.”

Bucky tightens his hold on Steve. “We can, if you really want to. But I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

Steve stays silent for a few seconds. “Go get our drinks. I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

Bucky doesn’t let Steve go without a kiss first, brushing their lips together in a chaste touch. Steve gives him a nuzzle before taking his overnight bag to Bucky’s room. Bucky follows a few minutes later, mugs in hand.

“Scoot,” Bucky tells Steve as he climbs into bed, balancing the mugs while he tries to find the best and most comfortable position.

Steve watches him with a smile and a raised brow. “I can hold that for you, you know?”

“Oh, yes, please.” Bucky passes him the mugs, now squirming around until he’s pressed closed to Steve’s side and can pull the blankets up to his chest. He leans back against his pillow and the headboard with a sigh, and then makes grabby hands towards his mug. “Thank you.”

“You had a rough day, huh?” Steve asks as he snakes an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulls him closer.

Bucky nods and takes a sip of his tea, eyes fluttering as the warm liquid runs down his throat. “It was my own fault, but yeah,” he says, and proceeds to tell Steve about his good luck shots and what came after.

Steve rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s arm. “You’re okay now.”

“You help,” Bucky murmurs. He sets his now empty mug on his nightstand before he turns on his side, head coming to rest on Steve’s chest while he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist. “Thank you for coming over.”

“Always,” Steve promises with a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. A few minutes pass without either of them saying anything, until Steve breaks the silence, “I never sleep during the first snowstorm of the year.”

Bucky goes still. “Never?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s the cold. Too many memories.”

Bucky gulps. He can guess what some of those memories are, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest. “Those memories keep you up?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers. “Hard to sleep when you remember freezing to death.”

Bucky’s harsh intake of breath is loud in the room and he almost headbutts Steve in the chin in his hurry to sit up. “ _Steve_.”

“It’s fine,” Steve tries to calm him down, and at Bucky’s horrified face he corrects himself, “I mean, not _fine_ , but… I’m used to it. I can deal with it.”

“Stevie, sweetheart,” Bucky rushes out, cupping Steve’s face between his hands. He can feel the tears gathering at his eyes, as well as the cold dread that slithers up his spine. He has no words for this kind pain, this kind of tragedy, this kind of weight and experience Steve carries around with him every day. “ _Fuck_ ,” is what he ends up saying, all of his anger and sadness wrapped around the word.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Steve says, lips turned down and eyes sad.

Bucky lets out a strangled sound and squishes Steve’s cheeks together. “Upset me! Fuck, _always_ upset me when it comes to shit like this. I feel _for you_ , honey, and that you ever had to go through something like this. And that you still… _shit_ , Steve.”

“Buck—”

“I’m buying another space heater tomorrow,” Bucky announces, and then shakes his head. “No, I’m buying five. One for each room and one we can keep near you at all times when you’re here. I’m also getting more blankets. And I’m asking Ma to knit another one for us.” Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “You’ll never feel cold again when you’re with me. I won’t let that happen.”

Bucky’s heart breaks when he sees Steve’s expression crumble, tears sliding down his cheeks. He presses a kiss to Steve’s mouth and chin and nose and everywhere he can reach, lips salty with the taste of Steve’s sadness. Bucky holds him while Steve cries, whispering soothing nonsense against his ear and hugging him as tight as he can.

“Sorry,” Steve says a few minutes later, face blotchy and lashes wet. “I didn’t mean—”

“Never apologize for that,” Bucky interrupts him. “You’re safe with me. If you need to cry or laugh or scream, you’re safe to do it with me.”

Steve sniffles and buries his face against Bucky’s neck. “I can deal with it, you know.”

Bucky rubs Steve’s back. “I know,” he says. “You don’t hafta do it alone, though.”

“I know,” Steve replies. “It’s… I’m a lot better about this than I used to be. And you know about the VA meetings. They help. They help _me_. I’ve learned not to bottle everything up and find good ways to cope, but it’s still… it’s just hard sometimes.”

“We all have our bad days, huh?” Bucky squeezes Steve tighter.

“Yeah. Sorry I added to yours.”

“Hey, look at me.” Bucky presses a finger under Steve’s chin and tilts his face up. “No more apologizing for having human feelings, okay? I want to know about your bad days so I can help make them better. Just like you did for me today.”

“Okay,” Steve says with a twist of his lips, flashing Bucky that small and shy smile he never uses with anyone else.

“Okay.” Bucky traces his thumb up the curve of Steve’s jaw until he can cup the back of Steve’s neck. “Do you think you can sleep at all today?”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. Even if I can’t, I want to stay here with you.”

“I want you here with me too,” Bucky says, and doesn’t stop himself from brushing a kiss to Steve’s mouth. “How about we give this a try? And if you can’t sleep and you get tired of watching me snore, you know where everything is.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and then seems to hesitate at something.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks.

There’s a light pink flush to Steve’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Be the big spoon?”

Bucky smiles, slow and wide, and pats Steve on the hip. “Turn over.”

Steve is quick to do so, entire body relaxing as soon as Bucky curves himself around his back. Bucky kisses the back of Steve’s neck and throws an arm around his waist, pulling him as close as they can possibly be.

“Okay?” Bucky checks in, nuzzling at Steve’s nape.

“Yes,” Steve breathes out. He tangles his fingers through Bucky’s and brings Bucky’s hand up to his chest, right over his heart. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Always, Steve,” Bucky promises. “Always.”

 

**

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks, worrying at his bottom lip.

“Yes,” Steve huffs as he laces up his boots.

“We can just stay here,” Bucky suggests for the fifth time. “In bed. Naked.”

Steve levels him with a flat look. “No.”

“But _Steve_ ,” Bucky whines.

Steve raises a hand for Bucky to shut up, which Bucky promptly does. “I want to do this,” Steve tells him. “And I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“But what if you’re not?” Bucky whispers, coming up between Steve’s legs and resting his palms on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve bumps his head against Bucky’s chest and breathes him in. “If…” he trails off. “It’s— Just, make sure you talk to me. Telling me I’m safe and what year it is helps. Please don’t throw anything at my face, that makes it worse. Rubbing my back or holding my hand is okay.”

“Inhale for four, exhale for four?” Bucky asks. He’s had training on how to talk someone down from a panic attack before, but he knows different people prefer different methods.

Steve nods. “My heart rate is faster than other beings. A skip above shifters, maybe.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Bucky kisses the top of Steve’s head. “Now, for the last time: do you really want to go out in the snow instead of staying here with me?”

“Yes,” Steve answers. “I can’t let the cold bother me. I’ve got to let it go.”

Bucky snorts. “Alright, Elsa. Let’s go then. I’ll even build a snowman with you.”

Steve stands up and pulls Bucky in for a slow kiss. “Thank you.”

They bundle up as much as they can, which means Bucky is safely enclosed in about five different layers and a scarf while Steve merely shrugs on a wool sweater. It snowed more during the night, so the roads and cars are covered white when they leave the building. And there’s still the bonus of no paparazzi.

A few kids from the neighborhood are out and playing, making good use of the fresh snow so they can have fun. Steve smiles a little when he sees them running around and falling down, only to get up and start all over again.

“Here a good spot?” Bucky asks, glancing at two little boys trying to build a snow robot. It’s surprisingly realistic and bears an uncanny resemblance to Iron Man. Bucky wonders if he can ask them to take a picture of it later.

Steve starts to answer, “Yeah, here’s— _aargh_.”

Bucky startles and snaps his eyes back to Steve, only to burst out laughing. Steve has snow sticking to his hair and the right side of his face, slowly sliding down to his chest and stomach.

“I hit Captain America!” a little girl in pigtails and a bright green coat yells while she raises her arms up in victory. Her success is short lived, because a second later _she’s_ hit in the leg with a snowball.

“Not on my watch!” another girl about her age with curly hair and sparkly purple boots shouts out, already gathering enough snow to make another snowball.

“Oh shit,” Bucky murmurs, right before two other kids start yelling.

“Snowball fight!”

Bucky is an adult. He’s been on this earth for over thirty years, born to a family with a curse attached to its bloodline, _and_ he’s siblings with one Becca Barnes. So at the first shout of _snowball fight_? Bucky cuts and runs.

It’s instinct to go find shelter behind one of the parked cars and start making his own arsenal of snowballs. There are already kids attacking each other and turning on their own teams, laughter echoing bright and loud through the street.

There is only one problem.

Steve is nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck, I forgot Steve,” Bucky whispers, horrified at himself. Steve, his boyfriend, whose trauma directly relates to the cold and snow and _freezing to death_. “Shit, fuck, fuck, _shit_. Barnes, you are the worst fucking person ever, oh my _god_.”

Bucky stares around for his boyfriend, trying to find his broad shoulders and sunshine hair in the middle of the snow war that’s happening in front of him. His stomach churns when he can’t catch even a glimpse of Steve.

“Fuck, fuck, okay.” Bucky takes a deep breath. He needs to figure out a plan. He gathers a few snowballs into his lap, ignoring the coldness of it seeping into his clothes. He’s going to have to abandon his shelter and go into the warzone. He needs to find Steve. “You can do this,” Bucky tells himself.

Only, just as Bucky is about to run into enemy fire, something cold and hard and gross hits him right on the back of his neck.

Bucky lets out a startled scream and tries to shy away from the snow sliding under his coat and down his back. He hisses at the cold and starts batting at his own back in a futile attempt at getting it off of him.

“Who the _fu—_ ” Bucky starts and turns around in the direction the snowball came from. “Oh, motherfucker.”

Steve grins and waves at him from three cars behind, his dumb face transformed with a smile that is equal parts evil and happy.

Bucky narrows his eyes and points a finger at him. “It’s on.”

The thing about Steve is that he’s _fast_. By the time Bucky manages to grab one of his snowballs, Steve’s already running away and trying to find a new cover. Bucky’s only consolation is that he gets hit in the legs by a few kids on the way, which slows him down enough so Bucky can change courses and intercept him.

“Gotcha!” Bucky says as he launches himself at Steve.

Steve laughs and catches Bucky midair, but not before Bucky manages to hit him in the chest with the snowball. They slip on the wet ground and go down together in a tangle of limbs, with Bucky ending up on Steve’s lap while Steve leans against one of the cars.

“That was fun,” Steve pants, cheeks flushed and wet hair plastered to his forehead.

“For _you_ maybe,” Bucky grumbles, and then throws his arms around Steve in a hug. “I’m so sorry I left you.”

“Bucky,” Steve chuckles, hugging him back.

“I really really am.” Bucky presses his cold nose to the side of Steve’s neck. “I honestly didn’t mean to. My body just took over.”

“Danger response?” Steve asks, huffing in amusement.

“Yes,” Bucky sighs. “I’m really sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Steve kisses his cheek. “And I did hit you first so.”

“Little shit,” Bucky says fondly, pulling back so he can give Steve a kiss. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a smile. “It was fun. Having the kids around helped too. Like a grounding point.”

“No laughing children in the war?” Bucky asks gently.

Steve shakes his head, eyes sad. “Not really.”

Bucky rests their forehead together. “Want to go get some hot chocolate? There’s a coffee shop a block from here.”

“Sounds good.” Steve helps them both get up, grimacing at the way their wet clothes stick together. “But let me do something first.”

“Hm?” Bucky hums, and gapes a little when Steve just… starts _steaming_. “What in the fuck?” Bucky barks out a laugh, a little fascinated. He can feel the temperature around Steve rising and he can see the snow around Steve’s feet just… melting into a puddle.

“Comes in handy.” Steve shrugs as he uses his powers to dry himself and his clothes. “Want me to do you?”

Bucky blinks at him. Steve’s hair is dry now, fluffed up and sticking up everywhere, kind of like a little duckling. Bucky’s heart hurts in his chest.

“Yes, please,” Bucky says in favor of the coo he wants to let out. He snuggles up into Steve’s arms and lets out a little laugh when Steve cranks up his heat, making sure to touch as much of Bucky as he can.

It takes only a few minutes for Bucky to be in dry and toasty-warm clothes again. “Thank you,” he mumbles and presses a kiss to Steve’s neck.

“Sure, Buck.”

When Bucky pulls back from Steve, he notices the melted snow at their feet. They’re careful not to slip as they walk hand in hand to the coffee shop, happy and tired and warm. And as Bucky grabs a table while Steve orders their drinks, Bucky realizes something that sends a stab of pain through his heart.

Steve is one of the most powerful firestarters in the world. Yet he let himself freeze to death in the Valkyrie instead of trying to melt the ice that would keep him for seventy years.

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of blood.

He’s walking through mountains made of all kinds of metal, with sharp edges that glint silver and snag at his clothes and rip at his skin. Bucky tries to duck and sidestep them, but every movement he makes just brings him closer and closer to the end.

Bucky dreams of blood, skin slippery and thick with it, and wakes up knowing he’s in danger.

 

**

 

After Bucky’s revelation regarding Steve’s powers, he had all intention of asking Steve about the Valkyrie. But when he wakes up soaked with sweat and thinking he’s about to die, that gets moved to the back burner.

Afterall, he won’t be able to ask Steve anything if he’s dead.

Bucky fumbles for his phone, hands shaking as he dials Steve’s number. His mind is going a mile a minute.  

Maybe aliens will burst from the sky and a building will fall on him. Maybe someone who really hates the fae will mistake his good looks as something otherly and will stab him. Maybe Tony Stark will try to hug Bucky while he’s wearing the suit and will crush him to death.

Bucky is about to spiral into a panic attack when Steve answers, voice sleepy and like he’s just woken up from a pretty good dream. Bucky hates to ruin it all for him, but he figures Steve will be more upset if his _boyfriend dies_ than if he gets woken up before his alarm.

“Steve, I think I’m in danger,” Bucky blurts out, voice shaking his as bad as his hands.

“Buck— where are you? Are you safe?”

“I’m home, I’m fine, but I don't think it’ll last long.” Bucky gulps, and then proceeds to tell Steve about his vision. “I think it means I’m going to get really hurt.”

Steve lets out a sound that seems surprisingly like an angry growl and, if Bucky wasn’t freaking out, he’d totally ask Steve to do it again.

“I’m coming to get you,” Steve tells him, leaving no room for argument. “I’ll borrow a car from—”

“No cars!” Bucky yells. “What if _that’s_ how I get hurt? No cars, please.”

“I can ask Tony—”

“No _Iron Man_! What if _he_ accidentally kills me?”

Steve is silent for a few seconds, until he finally says, “Sam can fly you over to the Tower, is that okay?”

“You’ll wait for me there?”

“Yes. I’d ask him to bring me with, but I don’t think he can carry both of us.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He’ll be with Steve. He’ll be safe. “Okay, okay, that sounds good. I should go get dressed.”

“He’ll be there in a few minutes,” Steve says. “And Bucky, everything will be okay, got it?”

“Got it,” Bucky murmurs, a little more relaxed now Steve has his back. “It’s… can you stay on the phone with me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Bucky puts Steve on speaker while he gets ready. He focuses on the steady tone of Steve’s voice and tries to push all thoughts of metal and blood away. He’ll be fine, just like Steve said.

A knock sounds on his door about fifteen minutes later.

“That must be Sam,” Bucky says, taking Steve off speaker and putting his phone to his ear.

“You alright, man?” Sam asks when Bucky opens the door, giving the apartment a quick glance before settling his gaze on Bucky.

Bucky shrugs. He’s still pretty shaken, and he doubts that’ll pass until after his vision comes true. If he’s still alive after it’s over, that is.

“Thank you for doing this,” Bucky tells him, and doesn’t resist the urge to give Sam a quick hug.

Sam huffs and pats Bucky on the back. “No problem. Is that Steve on the phone?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nods, and hands Sam the phone when he asks for it.

“I’m here. Everything seems to check out,” Sam says, and then pauses to listen. “Yeah, we should be there in about twenty minutes. Wait for us on the roof. Okay, see you in a few.”

“Steve?” Bucky says when he takes the phone back.

“Sam’s got you, okay? I’ll be waiting for you when you get to the Tower,” Steve answers, and then softens his voice. “You’re safe, baby, okay? We’re making sure of it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, voice small. “I think I have to hang up now.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few, alright? Natasha will be on the ground following you guys, so if anything happens, we got you.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. There’s a niggle of worry still churning in his stomach, but he knows they’re doing everything to make sure he’ll be fine.

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” Bucky pockets his phone and turns to Sam. “I’m ready.”

It turns out, Bucky is _not_ ready.

Flying is absolutely fucking _terrifying_ , especially when all he has to hold on to are Sam’s shoulders while he’s strapped to Sam’s chest like a toddler.

“I hate this!” Bucky yells, trying to make himself heard through the strong wind.

“You’re not the only one!” Sam yells back as he flies them through the streets of New York and in the direction of the tower.

Bucky closes his eyes and prays to the Goddess for good luck. She’s never failed his Ma, so maybe she’ll protect him now.

In all fairness, as terrible as flying with Sam is, they do arrive safe and sound to the Tower. The only casualty is Bucky’s hair, which is wind-blown, tangled, and sticking up in all sorts of directions. Not that it matters, because as soon as Sam unbuckles him, Steve is there, catching him in his arms.

“You okay?” Steve asks, fingers running through Bucky’s hair as his eyes search Bucky’s face.

Bucky nods and buries his face in Steve’s chest, breathing him in. “Something’s still going to happen.”

Steve hugs him close. “We’ll be ready for it.”

Steve thanks Sam as they make their way inside the Tower, riding the elevator down to the common floors.

“It’s nothing,” Sam tells him, clapping Steve on the shoulder. “Seriously. Never mention it again.”

“What he said,” Bucky mutters. “There was nothing dignified about what happened.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Bucky tilts his chin back.

“C’mon,” Steve rubs his hand up and down Bucky’s back, “did you have breakfast yet?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Couldn’t eat.”

“Think you can give it a try now?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky admits. “What’s for breakfast?”

The answer is: _everything_. Bucky holds in a gasp when he steps into the Avengers’s kitchen, eyes going round with surprise at the spread of breakfast food set on the counter. There are pancakes, toast, bacon, at least 3 variations of eggs, fruit, some muffins and bagels, cereal, and waffles. Bucky almost starts crying.

“I think he’ll eat something,” Sam teases, and then points a finger at Bucky. “But not the waffles. Those are mine.”

“Consider it payment for today?” Bucky suggests.

Sam pretends to think about it, and then extends a hand. “Deal.”

Bucky shakes on it.

Steve smiles fondly at both of them. “I’ll get you a plate,” he tells Bucky. “You go sit down.”

Bucky nods, and makes sure to grab a chair away from anything that looks even remotely sharp. He doesn’t even accept the knife Steve hands him when he comes back with a small pile of food for Bucky.

“I’ll eat with my hands,” Bucky says. “No risks.”

Steve presses his lips together, torn between worry and laughter. “Want me to butter your toast?”

“Steve, we’re _eating here_ ,” Sam complains, but Bucky doesn’t miss the light glint in his eyes.

“I would love for you to butter my toast,” Bucky says loudly, side-eyeing Sam.

“What did I just walk into?” Tony asks as he makes his way to the table, setting something down by the muffins before picking up a plate for himself. “Not that I mind. You do you.”

“Breakfast,” Steve says, glaring at Sam.

Sam just grins back at him.

“Buckaroo,” Tony greets Bucky with a raised eyebrow, “did you spend the night?”

“None of your business,” Bucky says through a mouthful of pancakes.

“Ouch.” Tony clutches at his chest. “But really, is everything okay? You two seem way too tense for a couple who supposedly spent the night having sex.”

“We didn’t,” Steve sighs, but seems to hesitate before saying anything else.

“You can tell him,” Bucky assures him.

“Tell me what?” Tony squints.

Bucky keeps eating while Steve briefs him about Bucky’s vision, watching as Tony grows serious in light of the situation. It warms Bucky’s heart a little, but he’s still kind of half convinced Tony might be the reason he gets hurt in the first place.

“JARVIS,” Tony pipes up, “standard protocols in place?”

“Always, sir,” a robotic albeit very smooth voice answers back from the ceiling.

“AI?” Bucky asks, and then grins when Tony nods. “Nice.”

“I am glad you like me, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS says. “Is there anything else?”

“We’re good,” Tony says. He claps Bucky on the shoulder. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky replies, although he knows they can’t really stop a vision from happening. It’s still sweet, though.

Bucky waves at Natasha when she arrives, followed by Clint and Bruce.

Bruce flashes him a soft smile. “It’s good to see you again, Bucky.”

“You too.”

“‘Sup,” Clint says as he eyes Bucky’s plate. “Oh, sweet. We have banana muffins.”

“Not if you don’t hurry up,” Natasha threatens, already grabbing a few for herself.

“Aw, Nat,” Clint whines, hurrying to her side.

Natasha smirks at him and quickly snatches three more muffins from the basket, which prompts Clint to launch himself at her and swipe the basket from the table. In his rush, he accidentally hits Sam’s empty plate, the napkin holder, Tony’s mug, and sends it all crashing to the floor.

Bucky winces at the sound and the mess. He scoots over to Steve and far far away from Clint.

“Thor isn’t around?” Bucky asks, and has to bite back a laugh when Steve narrows his eyes at him.

“No,” Steve says, voice pointed. “He’s visiting his brother.”

“The one who tried to fuck up Earth?”

Steve grimaces. “Apparently, he regrets it.”

Bucky snorts. “Well yeah, you kicked his ass.”

Steve preens, chest puffing out. “That’s right.”

Bucky smiles at him and can’t help but smack a kiss to his cheek. “You’re cute. I’m gonna go get more pancakes. Do you want anything?”

“Nah. I’m going to wait for everyone to grab a plate before I start.”

Bucky nuzzles his nose against Steve’s own. “You mean you’re going to eat whatever they weren’t smart enough to grab for themselves.”

Steve grins. “Yup.”

Bucky pecks him on the lips and goes, making sure to sidestep the shattered glass and coffee puddle on the floor. What he doesn’t see, though, is the napkin holder. He steps right on top of it, his ankle rolling and making him lose his balance. He lets go of his plate in an attempt to balance himself, the porcelain hitting the floor and rolling away without shattering, but there is nothing for Bucky to hold on to to stop his fall.

Bucky crashes to the floor, a sharp bite of pain running from his tailbone to the back of his neck when he makes impact. But that doesn’t compare to the stinging and rushing pain he feels on his forearm when he tries to break his fall. He cries out, cradling his arm close to his body and wincing when he feels the hot thickness of blood sliding down his skin.

The worst of it, though, is that little rush of _aha!_ that snaps through his body and lets him know his vision has come true.

“ _Bucky_!” Steve is by his side a second later, eyes wide and face pale. He helps Bucky into a sitting position with one hand while he—

Bucky blinks. Maybe he hit his head on the way down, because he can’t believe Steve just _ripped off his shirt with one hand_.

“What,” Bucky says faintly, blinking again.

“We need to keep pressure on it,” Steve says, pressing the tattered remains of his shirt to Bucky’s bleeding arm. “Do you hurt anywhere else?”

“Did I hit my head?” Bucky asks, and then glances at the other Avengers surrounding him.

“I don’t think so,” Natasha answers, tilting her head to the side as he stares down at Bucky. “Just your butt.”

“I can check,” Bruce says, and then makes a face at himself. “His head, not his… other thing.”

Bucky stays still while Bruce examines him, arm throbbing in pain. “What did I fall on?”

“Uh,” Tony speaks up, “that might’ve been my fault.”

Bucky gasps. “I _knew_ Iron Man was going to kill me!”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve snaps, naked shoulders drawn up with tension.

“I didn’t mean to!” Tony raises his hands, one holding a very sharp looking metal tool that just happens to be covered in Bucky’s blood. “I left it on the table. Clint must’ve dropped it when he went to get the muffins.”

“Aw, me,” Clint groans.

“Not your fault,” Bucky assures him.

“Thanks, bro.”

“You seem fine,” Bruce tells him. “Can you feel any signs of a concussion?”

Bucky shakes his head, and then squints. “Are you sure, though? Because I couldn’t have possibly seen my boyfriend rip his own shirt off so he could wrap it around my bleeding arm.”

There are a few seconds of silence before Sam says, “Yeah, man, I wish I hadn't seen that too.”

“You need to go to the hospital,” Steve says, cheeks as red as Natasha’s hair. “You might need stitches.”

“We have people here on standby,” Tony offers, but Steve shakes his head.

“Hospital. I’m not taking any chances.”

“It’s just a cut, Steve,” Bucky says. He pushes Steve’s hand away from his arm and takes a peek at his injury. “Eh, don’t think I’ll need stitches. I can glue this together.”

“ _Hospital_ ,” Steve says, leaving no room for argument. He helps Bucky stand up, lips turning down when Bucky winces.

“My butt,” Bucky says through gritted teeth, leaning his weight against Steve’s bare chest.

“Steve will take care of it,” Natasha tells him, appearing by their side with something purple and sparkly in her hand. “Here,” she throws the thing at Steve, “you can’t go to the hospital shirtless.”

“A sparkly unicorn sweater,” Steve says flatly, eyeing the pink unicorn embroidered in the middle of the fabric. “Really.”

“Where do you even find these things?” Sam asks, impressed and delighted.

“I have my ways,” is all Natasha says.

“Spy ways,” Clint adds.

“Car’s out front and ready for you,” Tony interrupts them, grasping hold of Bucky’s elbow so Steve can put on his sweater. To Tony’s credit, he doesn’t even make a joke about it. “Just call when you’re ready to be picked up.”

“Okay with the car?” Steve checks in with Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, flickering his gaze to his arm, “the vision was about this.”

“Wow, you’re really bad at guessing what they’re about, huh?” Clint comments, and then curls in on himself when Steve glares at him. “Sorry.”

“He’s right,” Bucky admits. “But now’s not the time. Can we go? I can call ahead and let Claire know I’m coming in.”

“Yeah, come on.” Steve curls an arm around Bucky’s waist, and then almost makes to pick Bucky up in a bridal carry before he catches himself.

“I can walk,” Bucky says testily, narrowing his eyes at Steve. Not that he would mind being carried around in Steve’s arms. He just doesn’t need that right now.

“Right.” A flush comes back to Steve’s cheeks, contrasting rather nicely with his sparkly purple sweater. “I’ll keep you guys updated.”

The Avengers look on with sympathy as they wish them both luck. Bucky closes his eyes and leans against Steve on their way down to the garage, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. It’s not the worst thing he’s experienced, but getting hurt is never a good thing, especially when that comes on top of vision-induced panic.

Still, at least he didn’t die.

Claire isn’t there to meet them when Bucky checks in, but by the way Billy pops his head in the ER and sends him a thumbs up when he sees Bucky, Bucky knows she’s let everyone he’d be coming in. A few people keep glancing at them in interest, having obviously recognized Steve, but they’re all too worried about their own troubles to give them too much attention.

Steve is a ball of concerned energy at Bucky’s side, his temperature fluctuating between his pleasant warmth and anxious heat. “Can’t they just let you in?”

“No special treatment,” Bucky mumbles. “Captain America understands.” Steve does look a little ashamed at being called out like that, but Bucky knows Steve’s only asking because he’s worried. “It’ll happen soon.”

And it does. Not ten minutes later, Kamala is calling Bucky’s name and giving him an unimpressed look. She totally ignores Steve and his sweater, something Steve seems to be grateful for by the way his shoulders relax a little.

“Did you get hurt doing arts and crafts again?” Kamala asks, frowning at the ripped shirt around Bucky’s arm.

“That was one time,” Bucky grumbles. In his defense, hot glue can be _really_ hot. “And I just fell on a really sharp metal tool thing.”

“Knife? Screwdriver? Saw?”

Bucky shrugs. “I dunno. My tetanus shot should still be good.”

“I’ll check.” Kamala cleans his cut and inspects it. “Don’t think you’ll need stitches. We can just glue this back together.”

Bucky turns his head at Steve and raises his eyebrows at him. “What did I say.”

Steve lets out a breath. “I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Your boyfriend’s right.” Kamala pokes Bucky in the arm after she comes back with Bucky’s chart, just to make him hurt a little. “You know what can happen when even the smallest of injuries are left untreated.”

“Fine,” Bucky says, “I’ll be a responsible adult. Just glue me back together, please.”

“Your shots are fine. You won’t have to go under the needle for this.” Kamala patches him up and then turns to Steve, “I have aftercare instructions.”

Steve straightens up. “I’m listening.”

“Mr. Barnes is going to need lots of cuddles,” Kamala says, face blank and betraying nothing.

Bucky groans. “Why are you like this?”

Steve’s lips twitch, but he plays along. “I can do that.”

“Some hot cocoa and a foot rub wouldn’t go amiss,” Kamala continues. “It might speed up his recovery.”

“She’s right,” Bucky perks up and glances at Steve. “Foot rubs are very important.”

“I’m sure.” Steve nods. “Would he need kisses as well?”

“We all know kisses make hurts go away,” Kamala tells him. “So you better take good care of him.”

Steve finally cracks a smile. “I promise I will.”

“Okay then, Mr. Barnes, you are free to go.”

Bucky stands up slowly and touches Kamala lightly on the arm. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’ll let everyone you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Nurse Kahn,” Steve says, oddly formal.

Kamala grins at him. “Remember, foot rubs.”

Steve winks at her, and then goes back to Bucky’s side, his arm firmly wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Once again, a few people glance their way, with one particular goblin trying to sneak a picture of the two of them. Bucky has to bite back a smile when he sees the goblin scoff at what certainly is a very blurry picture of his and Steve’s faces.

“Did you see?” Bucky murmurs, glancing up at Steve.

“Yup,” Steve says with a popping sound. “Bully for them.”

Bucky snorts and leads himself be led out of the hospital and to the car. His arm stings a bit, but nothing he can’t handle. It’s the exhaustion weighing on him that is a problem.

“Can we take three naps when we get home?” Bucky asks, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat.

“Whatever you want,” Steve promises with a kiss to his temple.

Bucky feels sluggish and tired when they finally get to his building, and he can feel a headache building behind his eyes. “Ugh,” he groans. “Bad day.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Steve says as he gently pushes Bucky down on the couch. “I’ll grab you some Ibuprofen.”

“And tea?” Bucky asks hopefully.

“That wasn’t on Kamala’s list.”

Bucky whimpers a little. “Don’t tease me.”

Steve brushes a sweet kiss to his lips. “I’ll be right back.”

Bucky spends the time Steve is way in the kitchen trying to wrap himself in as many blankets as possible. Good on past Bucky for keeping a pile of blankets thrown over the back of the couch during winter time, ready for him to grab them and try to achieve maximum blanket burrito status. He even kicks off his jeans and loses his sweater, now cozy and comfortable in his warmth cocoon. All that’s missing is Steve.

“I see you’ve fallen back to your original form.” Steve grins when he sees Bucky, carrying a mug and a bottle of pills in his hands.

“Don’t diss the burrito, Steve,” Bucky grumbles. “Just come cuddle me.”

“Yes, dear.” Steve bats his lashes.

Bucky blows on his hot tea and takes the bottle from Steve, popping an Ibuprofen and taking a sip of his hot drink. The couch dips when Steve sits beside him, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to free his right side so he can wrap the blankets around both of them instead.

“I’m gonna be sweating in a few minutes,” Steve points out, but pulls Bucky close to him anyway.

“Then you can give me that foot rub,” Bucky says through a yawn. “Today happened so much.”

Steve snorts. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me these things.” Bucky rubs his cheek against Steve’s shoulder and then tilts his head up to kiss his jaw. “Thank you for taking care of me when I was hurt.”

Steve glances down at him, eyes soft and smiling. “I’ll always take care of you.”

“Yeah?” Bucky smiles, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbles a question, “And who takes care of you?”

If Steve answers, Bucky doesn’t know. He falls asleep as soon as those words leave his mouth.

 

**

 

Bucky’s arm heals, leaving only a faint mark behind. Steve likes to trace his thumb over it when they’re in bed, jaw clenching, like it’s a reminder that Bucky is fragile and can get hurt. Bucky gently pats his cheek and calls him a dumbass whenever that happens.

“Hey, you know what we haven’t done in a while?” Bucky asks, pausing an episode of _Buzzfeed Unsolved_ and turning around in bed to face Steve.

Steve thumbs the page of the book he’s reading and raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “What?”

“Gone on a date.” Bucky hits Steve in the arm. “We’ve only been together for three months. The romance can’t be dead yet.”

Steve’s expressions goes from curious to helplessly fond in about a second. “We didn’t celebrate our anniversaries.”

“Oh my god, we killed the romance before it even began,” Bucky groans, hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve cups the back of his neck with a hand, fingers tangling through his hair. “We can do it now. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know?” Bucky lifts his head up, leaning into Steve’s touch. “Something with food.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Of course.”

“No fancy restaurants where the food costs more than what I make in a day,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose. “And no deconstructed food places.”

“You don’t want to eat your lamb chops out of a mini pot plant?” Steve widens his eyes at him.

“I will stab myself in the eye first,” Bucky replies, and then it clicks. “Oh! I know!”

“What?”

“We could fondue!” Bucky says, smiling in excitement.

“What?” Steve asks again, but this time with his voice as faint as a whisper.

“Fondue,” Bucky repeats. “I think it’d be the perfect way for us to celebrate.”

“I… I guess?” Steve says, still a bit faint.

Bucky frowns at him, taking in the way Steve’s face has gone pink and the air around them feels suspiciously warm. “Is there something wrong with fondue?”

“No!” Steve rushes to say, shaking his head. “Fondue is good. I love fonduing.”

“What types have you had?” Bucky asks, and then adds, “I love how much variety there is. It gives you the chance to try out different things and figure out what you like. And even when it’s bad, it’s still kind of good, you know?”

Steve blinks at him, the blush covering his cheeks and nose now coloring his neck. “I… sure?”

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Bucky closes his laptop and places it on his nightstand. “The room’s really warm and I’m getting sweaty.”

Steve flushes even more at that and then grimaces when Bucky kicks the covers off both of them. “Sorry,” Steve says, looking a little helpless. “It’s just… _fondue_.”

“What of it?” Bucky shakes his head in confusion, and then gets a thought. “Oh, was it a slang for a weird thing back when you grew up? Like boner?”

Steve presses his lips together and tries very hard to look like everything is fine. “Sort of, it’s…” he scrubs a hand over his face, conveniently keeping Bucky from staring at him when he says, “that’s how Howard used to talk about sex.”

“Who’s— _Tony’s dad_?” Bucky says when realization dawns, and then laughs at the miserable expression on Steve’s face.

“It’s not funny,” Steve mumbles, face still red.

“ _Even when it’s bad, it’s still kind of good_ ,” Bucky repeats himself in between laughs, and then grabs Steve’s face and smacks a kiss to his pouty lips. “You’re amazing.”

“Shuddup,” Steve tells him, face so warm it stings Bucky’s palms a little.

“Really, though.” Bucky rests their foreheads together, ignoring the sweat gathering at his hairline. “I’m up for both food fondue and sex fondue. I think it’d be a nice way to celebrate.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, blush receding a little.

“Yeah. We could go to _Fonduely Yours_.” Bucky grins. “The atmosphere is nice, the food is good, and they have a closed patio with a bunch of cool plants their wood nymph takes care of. So what do you think?”

“And then we can come home and fondue?” Steve asks, eyes hopeful.

“As much as you want.”

“I like that.”

“Good.” Bucky kisses him, and then hops off the bed. “I’m opening a window. It’s way too hot in here.”

 

**

 

**Bucky [8:59PM]:**

_Fonduely Yours tomorrow @ 7p yes_

_I can pick you up?_

 

 **Steve** **< 3 [9:03PM]:**

_Sounds good :D_

_Anything we’ll need for… later?_

 

**Bucky [9:05PM]:**

_Just ur dick <3_

 

**

 

“Don’t you look handsome,” Bucky says with a smile, pulling Steve into this arms.

“I gotta look my best for my best guy.” Steve bends down to kiss him. “Hi, Buck.”

“Hey, doll. You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Steve waggles his eyebrows at him, a glint in his eyes. “I’m _ready_.”

Bucky snorts, but he can already feel the heat pooling into his gut. Now it’s not the time, though. They need to eat before they get to play.

“You good with walking?” Bucky asks. “The place isn’t that far from here.”

“Sure,” Steve agrees. “Will you hold my hand on the way?”

Bucky makes a show of slipping his hand against Steve’s and tangling their fingers together. He even swings their arms back and forth for good measure. “Like I’d never.”

It’s a few minutes walk to _Fonduely Yours_ , which they spend telling each other about their days. Bucky’s been having a surprisingly easy time at the hospital lately, while Steve hasn’t had to run missions longer than 3 days in the past month. They both appreciate the calm it brings them, even though they know it can’t last.

“Oh,” Steve gasps when they reach the restaurant, expression filled with awe as he takes the live and colorful plants crawling their way up and around the brick walls that surround the building.

“Nice, huh?” Bucky murmurs. “Ivy has done a really good job making this feel…”

“Like their home?” Steve fills in. “It’s really something.”

“C’mon, then.” Bucky tugs at Steve’s hand. “We have a reservation.”

“Fancy,” Steve teases, and then kisses Bucky’s cheek when Bucky sticks his tongue out at him.

 The hostess smiles at them when she sees Bucky. “Mr. Barnes.”

“Ms. Quinn.” Bucky smiles back. “Table for two, under my name?”

Quinn winks at them, eyes lingering briefly on Steve’s form before she turns on her heels. “This way, please.”

“How often do you come here?” Steve asks, eyebrows drawn in curiosity.

“Often enough that they know me for me,” Bucky answers, “and not because I’m your boyfriend. Plus, Becca really loves this place.”

“That’s good,” Steve says, and then scrunches up his nose. “I don’t think I could ever come here with your sister.”

“Why—” Bucky starts to ask, but it only takes him a minute to shudder in disgust when he gets what Steve’s saying. “ _Disgusting_. Thank you for ruining an innocent experience with my sister with your old-timey innuendos.”

Steve has the grace to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, just…”

“Yikes?” Bucky suggests.

“Pretty much.”

“Here you go,” Quinn gestures them to a table in a secluded corner of their closed patio, surrounded by green life and illuminated by low sparkly lights. “A server will be right with you.”

Bucky and Steve both thank her before she leaves, settling into their seats.

“What do you recommend?” Steve asks, eyes quickly scanning over the menu.

“For you? Pretty much everything they have,” Bucky answers. “But maybe we should start with bread first?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Steve glances at Bucky from under his lashes, eyes dark, with a little smirk curling at his lips. “Are we having dessert here or…”

Bucky tries his best to look serious when he says, “If you think I’m giving up strawberries dipped in chocolate for your everything, you… could probably convince me.”

Steve laughs and reaches out to grab Bucky’s hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it. “I won’t keep you from your sweets.”

Bucky smiles at Steve, fingers tracing Steve’s cheek. “But you’re the sweetest of them all.”

Steve laughs again, a sweet little whisper of it that tickles over Bucky’s bare wrist. “Thank you?”

Bucky taps Steve’s cheek with a finger. “Always, sweetheart.”

Bucky can feel the way Steve’s skin heats up under his finger, and tries not to think of what that promises for later.

Soon enough, a centaur trots over to them, ready to take their orders. They start off easy, with a couple of options for the two of them, and in agreement that they’ll have something more later. When their orders arrive, Bucky can’t resist.

“Are you ready to…” Bucky drawls out, “ _fondue_?”

“I will stab you with this,” Steve threatens, pointing the sharp fork at him.

Bucky blows a loud kiss at Steve, just as he knocks their feet together under the table. “Here,” he stabs a little piece of bread and dips it in hot melting cheese before offering it to Steve.

Steve’s face twists once, eyes flickering from the bread to Bucky and back again. “Are we that kind of couple now?”

Bucky huffs. “Just eat the damn thing and see if I ever try to feed you again.”

Steve grins and obediently closes his mouth over the offered food, eyebrows raising in appreciation when he starts to chew. “‘S good.”

“I know,” Bucky sniffs.

Steve squints at him, and then he’s the one to fork a piece of bread, dip it in cheese, and offer it to Bucky. Bucky, who actually kind of likes doing… _cheesy_ romantic things like this, takes the bread with a smile and a bat of lashes.

They go through the bread in no time, and Bucky actually has to physically stop Steve with a hand on his wrist before Steve tries to dump melted cheese on his plate it and eat it.

“Oh my god, we’ll get something else,” Bucky tells him, a little grossed out. “Meat this time. Just please, do not _ever_. I don’t think I can keep dating you if I see you slurp down this amount of cheese in one go.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky. “Is that a challenge?”

“On how gross you can be before I leave? _No_.”

“I bet I can be really gross,” Steve muses as he scratches at his chin.

“Steven Grant Rogers, don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Buck,” Steve sighs, grinning like a loon, “that just means I gotta.”

Bucky groans and covers his face with his hands. “Goddess save me.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve laughs, grabbing Bucky’s hands and pulling them down. “I’ll behave.”

“You better,” Bucky grumbles and squeezes Steve’s hands. “You can be as nasty as you want _later_.”

Steve waggles his eyebrows. “That a promise?”

Bucky frees one of his hand and crosses an X over his heart, feeling the bonding magic spark through him. “Cross my heart.”

“Buck,” Steve murmurs, “you really gotta stop doing that.”

Bucky shrugs. It’s no skin off his nose to make and keep these little promises, especially when they’re for Steve. “Ready to eat more?” he asks instead.

Steve gives him a look like he knows Bucky is trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t push it. They eat through an assortment of meat before moving on to Bucky’s favorite part of the meal: fruit and melted chocolate.

“This is what fondue is all about,” Bucky says, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“Being sticky and sweet?” Steve asks as he tries to lick a drop of chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Bet this is the best fondue you’ve ever head.”

“I don’t know,” Steve drawls, a smirk playing at his lips. “Jury’s still out.”

“You know I rock your world, Rogers.”

Steve smiles then, just as sweet as melted chocolate. “You do.”

Bucky has to put down his fork then, and bend over across the table so he can press a kiss to Steve’s lips. “Same here, y’know?”

“I do,” Steve replies, licking his lips, and then glances down at their table. “Are you gonna eat the bananas?”

Bucky grins, slow and filthy. “You can eat my banana.”

Steve looks torn between laughing and groaning, so he settles for trying to look unimpressed instead. With the way his lips keep twitching, he fails at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The rest of dinner goes by quickly after that, with both of them going from harmless teasing to trading heated glances as the night goes on. They both know where this is going to lead them: straight to Bucky’s bed. It’s a heady feeling, knowing that as soon as they leave here, they’ll be ripping each other’s clothes off and having sex.

Or so Bucky thinks.

 

**

 

“Ugh,” Steve groans, hands clutching his tummy as they leave the restaurant. “I think I ate too much.”

“You big baby.” Bucky gives a light pat to Steve’s belly. “You’ll be fine by the time we get home.”

Steve pouts, pretty pink lips pursed and begging to be kissed. Bucky does just that, capturing Steve’s mouth against his own, tasting the sweetness of fruit and something else that is just Steve.

“What if I don’t feel better?”

“Then I’ll make you some tea and rub your tummy,” Bucky promises.

Steve shoots him one of his shy smiles, looking a little off guard at Bucky’s prompt response. “You’ll take care of me?”

Bucky tightens the arm he has around Steve’s waist and presses a kiss to his cheek. “For as long as you let me,” he says, and at the naked expression on Steve’s face, he adds, “I am a nurse, after all.”

Steve tangles his fingers through Bucky’s on his waist. “Does this mean you’ll dress up for me?”

“What? In a pretty white dress and stockings?” Bucky teases, and then has to laugh at the way Steve’s temperature goes up as his cheeks turn pink. “Maybe one day.”

“One day sounds good,” Steve murmurs, stealing a quick kiss.

Steve is indeed better by the time they get back to Bucky’s place, which he shows by plastering himself to Bucky’s back and mouthing at his neck while Bucky tries to unlock the door.

“This is fine,” Bucky gasps, tilting his head to the side so Steve can suck at his pulse point. “I can totally open the door while you’re doing this.”

Steve laughs against his neck, only to pluck the keys out of Bucky’s hand and unlock the door in the next second. “There you go.”

“Show off.”

“I’ll show _you_ off.”

Bucky glances at Steve over his shoulder, one arched eyebrow. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”

Steve takes a deep breath and then pounces. Bucky barks out a laugh and barely manages to run away, avoiding Steve’s grabby hands by an inch. Bucky dashes through the living room and runs to his room, laughing all the while Steve chases him. Only Bucky’s laugh turns into something else when Steve wraps his arms around his waist and pushes him up against the bedroom wall, caging him in.

“Got you,” Steve murmurs, eyes dark and hot.

“And what are you going to do with me?” Bucky breathes out, heart racing in his chest.

Steve leans in, so close their lips brush together when he says, “I’m going to eat your banana.”

There’s a second of silence before Bucky bursts out laughing, entire body shaking with his as he throws his head back. All he can do is clutch at Steve’s shoulders and let laughter rack through his body, so strong it brings tears to his eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky wheezes, trying to catch his breath. “That was amazing.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I do want to suck you off, though.”

“Well, pal, I don’t think my erection survived that,” Bucky says, chest heaving. “You’re gonna have to work for it.”

“I’ve been told I’m really dedicated,” Steve tells him, all faux innocence. “I’m sure I can do it.”

Bucky shakes his head at Steve and pulls him into a kiss. “Bed, please? I don’t want to fall down while your teeth are near my junk.”

“Are you saying I make your knees weak?” Steve asks, just as he scoops Bucky up and into his arms.

Bucky, still a little unused to being manhandled but loving every second of it, just wraps his arms and legs around Steve and holds on. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Same here,” Steve says, and throws Bucky not-so-gently on the bed.

Bucky bounces once and laughs, squirming until he’s lying with his head on his pillows. “Alright,” he claps once and then raises his arm up and under his head, “it’s show time. Strip for me.”

Steve rolls his eyes and then throws his sweater at Bucky’s head as soon as he gets it off of him. “Is this what you want?”

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky deadpans, vision obscured. “I love how hot you look as a shapeless grey blob.”

Steve laughs and pulls the sweater back with a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “I’m not the only one who should be getting naked.”

“Point.” Bucky tilts his head up to kiss Steve’s lips. “Can’t really blame me, though. You’re hot.”

“I can be hotter,” Steve says, and unceremoniously flicks his fingers and conjures fire around his palm.

“No pyrotechnics when we’re about to have sex,” Bucky warns him. “And that was a terrible joke.”

“You live for my terrible jokes,” Steve argues.

“Only a little,” Bucky admits. “But okay, naked time.”

Steve huffs out a laugh and backs away, although he keeps his eyes on Bucky while they strip off their clothes. Bucky doesn’t blame him. He also loves every second of Steve baring himself to him. And it’s especially nice to be pressed up against all that naked skin when they hop into bed.

“Your tummy okay?” Bucky asks, palm resting over Steve’s flat stomach.

“Yes. We’re safe from me throwing up on you while I suck your dick.”

“Good, because I’m really not into that.”

Steve gasps and widens his eyes. “You’re not into blowjobs?”

“Oh, shuddup.” Bucky laughs and covers Steve’s face with a hand. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Steve grins, batting Bucky’s hand away.

“Yes, Steve. Right, Steve,” Bucky sing-songs. If Steve’s being a little shit, so can he. “I love your cocksucking skills, Steve.”

Steve touches a hand to his heart. “I’m glad my hard earned skills are appreciated.”

“How about you put them to good use?” Bucky suggests, and rocks his hips against Steve’s thigh. He’s not all the way hard yet, but he knows that with the help of Steve’s mouth, he can get there in about a second.

“It’d be my honor,” Steve says with a most serious tone, pressing his forehead against Bucky before sliding down the bed.

Bucky laughs again and scrubs a hand over his face, glancing down when he feels Steve’s hot breath against this navel. “You okay there?”

Steve hums and nuzzles his nose against Bucky’s hip bone before pressing a kiss right above Bucky’s dick. “Don’t interrupt me, please. We’re getting reacquainted.”

Bucky lets out something that is _not_ a giggle and then runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Take your time.”

Steve looks up at him like he’s going to do whatever he wants, fuck you very much, and then wraps a hand around Bucky’s dick. Bucky hums and arches his back, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Steve’s palm around him, giving him a few experimental strokes. Soon enough, Bucky is leaking and hard in Steve’s grip, his breath hitching with every little flick of Steve’s hand.

“Stevie, _please_ ,” Bucky gasps, fingers tight on Steve’s hair as he tries not to fuck into the clutch of Steve’s palm.

“Okay,” Steve says with a kiss to Bucky’s thigh, not overly fond of leaving Bucky waiting.

Bucky cries out at the hot and wet feeling of Steve’s mouth closing over his cock and sucking him down. Steve’s cheek hollow every time he bobs his head, taking Bucky a little deeper each time, while he gently rolls Bucky’s balls in his hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bucky moans, gaze fixed on Steve’s pretty mouth wrapped around him. “You feel so good.”

Steve hums around him and pulls back, lips red and shiny. “You taste good.”

“Yeah?” Bucky caresses Steve’s cheek and then moves his hand to cup Steve’s jaw. “Want more of me?”

Steve whimpers and nods his head, mouth falling open as he waits for Bucky’s next move. Bucky wraps his hand around the one Steve still has on him and slowly feeds his cock into Steve’s mouth, not stopping until he brushes the back of Steve’s throat.

“That’s it, doll,” Bucky pants, trying his best to hold himself still. “Show me how much you want it.”

Steve blinks up at Bucky, eyes glazed but with a spark of challenge. Bucky can only grin at him for a second before Steve swallows around him, and then all he can do is curse and ride out the pleasure of Steve’s mouth taking him apart. And that’s exactly what Steve does, using his mouth to bring Bucky closer and closer to the edge.

“Gonna come,” Bucky warns him, and when lets out a whine when Steve gets off his cock with a loud pop.

“Like this,” Steve says, his voice rough and wrecked at the edges as he knees his way between Bucky’s legs.

“Steve,” Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, back bowing off the bed when Steve lines his own hard cock up against Bucky’s and wraps a hand around them both. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Their cocks press together in Steve’s slick hand as he jerks them off, the sweet friction of it sending sparks down Bucky’s spine. Bucky slides down his hands and cups them around Steve’s ass, urging him on, just as he fits his mouth over Steve’s in a deep and sloppy kiss.

All it takes is a swipe of Steve’s thumb over Bucky’s cockhead before he’s coming, body trembling and mouth opened in a silent scream. He can feel Steve moving and tensing on top of him, and then the hot splash of come over his spent cock and stomach.

“Ooof,” Bucky huffs when Steve flops down on top of him, boneless and panting and so warm.

Steve mumbles something, tongue darting out to taste the sweat on Bucky’s skin. Bucky giggles and hugs him close, only a little bit uncomfortable with the come sticking to their skins.

“That was good,” Bucky says, absentmindedly tracing patterns on Steve’s right buttcheek. “Thank you for eating my banana.”

Steve laughs, breath tickling Bucky’s neck. “It’s a really good banana.”

“Hey, Steve.”

Steve lifts his head up and blinks at Bucky, face flushed and hair a mess and eyes so fond Bucky’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Happy belated anniversaries,” Bucky murmurs, caught in Steve’s gaze.

Steve’s smile is small, but it lights up Bucky’s world. “And to many more to come,” he adds, and then gets that horrible glint in his eyes when he says, “just like we did.”

Bucky groans and pushes Steve off of him, wincing a little at the way the drying jizz tugs at his skin. “I’m kicking you out of bed.”

“That’s no way to treat your soulmate, Buck,” Steve argues with a dumb smile, already halfway to wrapping himself around Bucky again.

“It is when my soulmate’s being terrible.”

Steve kisses Bucky’s cheek. “That’s me all the time, though.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but only ends up laughing at Steve’s answer. “You got me there.”

“You’re kind of an asshole,” Steve tells him.

Bucky sighs. “You are what you eat.”

Steve flicks him on the nipple for that one, but soothes the hurt with a sweet kiss. “I’m glad we found each other.”

“Yeah,” Bucky lets out a deep breath, feeling impossibly happy and lucky. “Me too.”

 

**

 

 **Steve** **< 3 [4:39AM]:**

_Hi sweetheart. Sorry for texting so late. Or so early :P_

_They’re sending me off for a few days. Routine mission. Should be back soon_

_I’ll miss you <3_

 

**

 

Bucky doesn’t remember asking, but he gets his answer on who takes care of Steve a week later.

Bucky’s about halfway through a cookie packet, crumbs gathering at the corner of his mouth and falling down his blanket burrito, eyes totally focused on what’s about to happen on _Weightlifting Fairy Bok Joo._ Becca’s on a new korean show kick and Bucky has to admit they’re pretty good.

“I like Messi,” Bucky mumbles right before he stuffs another cookie into his mouth. He’s so focused and the is tension so high that, when his doorbell rings, Bucky almost chokes on a cookie. “What the heck?” he rasps out, coughing a little to clear out his throat.

It’s nearing one in the morning. No one should be knocking on his door.

Unless…

Bucky scrambles from his burrito and pauses _Bok Joo_ , wiping at his mouth while he dashes to his door. His heart trips inside his chest and gets stuck in his throat, the worst coming to mind when he pulls the door open.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky gapes at Steve, a shiver of dread curling up his spine. “What _happened to you_?” he asks, ushing Steve inside as he takes in the bruises surrounding Steve’s eye, the cut on his bottom lip, and the way he’s favoring his left side.

 _Fuck_ , Steve didn’t even change out of his uniform.

“I’m fine,” Steve says, but then hisses when Bucky tries to curl an arm around his waist and take some of his weight.

“Don’t lie to me,” Bucky snaps at him. “I can see that you’re hurt. We need to go to the hospital.”

“No hospitals,” Steve argues, face stuck in a wince. “I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Rogers,” Bucky growls, stopping Steve from turning around and leaving with a hand on his chest. “Sit your ass down.”

Steve clenches his jaw. “Bucky—”

“ _Now_.” Bucky points at the couch and his nest of blankets. “If you’re going to be a dumbass about this, I might as well help you.”

Steve juts his chin out but goes sit down. Bucky watches him clutch at his left side, listens to the harsh hiss he lets out once he’s down, and notices the way his muscles relax a little when he doesn’t have to keep himself standing.

Bucky bites back a curse and goes in search of his first aid kit. He can’t fucking _believe_ he didn’t have a vision about this, didn’t know Steve was going to get hurt.  What good is his fucking curse if it can’t even tell him when his soulmate’s hurt.

“What hurts the worst?” Bucky asks when he kneels down in front of Steve, setting the kit on the floor by his side.

“I’m fine. It’s already healing.”

“Steve,” Bucky repeats slowly, “what hurts the worst?”

Steve swallows, the fire in his eyes a mixture between anger and hurt. “My side.”

Bucky nods. “How do I get you out of this thing?” he gestures to the suit. It’s a different one from the red, white and blue Bucky is used to, trading those colors for a deep navy and a silver star on the chest.

“Zipper at the back, buckles on the side,” Steve tells him, but doesn’t look too happy about it. Even more so when Bucky finally gets the top half of the suit pushed down and his undershirt up and then lets out a hiss at the ugly cut on Steve’s ribs, red and still oozing a little blood.

“Why didn’t you go to medical?” Bucky asks, gathering what he needs to clean up Steve’s wound. “I thought you were supposed to report in after a mission.”

“I’ve had worse,” is all Steve says. “I’d just waste their time.”

Bucky makes a little hurt sound in the back of his throat, sadness and anger coursing through him at Steve’s nonchalant behavior at being injured. Like it’s normal. Like it’s what’s expected of him.

“I thought your team’s supposed to have your back.”

“They do.”

“If they did, they would’ve made sure you got checked out.”

“Bucky,” Steve starts to argue, but Bucky interrupts him.

“Don’t try to make me think this is okay when I have your blood on my hands,” Bucky spits out, so angry and hurt he wants to either punch something or burst into tears. He settles back into his training instead, trying to at least maintain a calm facade and steady hands while he patches Steve up.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says after a few seconds. His eyes are closed and his head is ducked, the ugly purple bruise around his eye now looking a little green around the edges. “I just… I heal.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t hurt,” Bucky murmurs. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need care. Doesn’t mean you _deserve it_ , just because you got easy-baked into being a supersoldier with superior healing skills.”

There are a few seconds of silence before Steve says, “Easy-baked?”

Bucky glares at him. “Don’t try to be cute right now.”

Steve sighs. “I’m really sorry. I just… I didn’t think.”

“Obviously.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve sounds a little annoyed now, which… okay, fair.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” Bucky tells him, bandaging Steve’s cut. It does look a little better now, more pink-ish and on its way to healing. “And I really don’t fuckin’ like that you think you don’t need help, that you think this,” he gestures to the bandage, “isn’t needed, because you heal faster than other beings. It’s not a waste of time or… or resources to make sure you’re okay, no matter what that dumb head of yours tries to tell you.”

Steve licks his lips and lets out a deep breath. “It’s… it’s difficult, sometimes.”

Bucky gives him a humorless smile. “I know. I’m a nurse. I’m very familiar with hard-headed beings who think they can handle anything. But guess what? Even the most powerful shifters and the oldest of fae and the best earth witches need stitches.” Bucky scrunches up his nose. “I didn’t mean for that to rhyme.”

Steve huffs out a short laugh. “I’m… I’m trying to be better about it.”

“And I appreciate that.” Bucky cups Steve’s face in his hand, careful of the bruises. “And you might be a superhero, and you might be one of the strongest firestarters the world has seen, but you’re not invincible.”

“I can take care of myself,” Steve grumbles, with very little heat to it.

Bucky raises his eyebrows at him and pointedly looks at the bandage on Steve’s side. “Really.”

“I…”

“Okay, look,” Bucky takes a deep breath, asking for strength, “I obviously can’t tell you how to do your job or _not_ to do your job. And I’d never want to do that anyway. But I can ask you to be kinder to yourself and to your body. If you’re hurt, get someone to check on you, even if you think you don’t need it.”

“But I—”

“Steve, do that for me,” Bucky pleads. “Let us take care of you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Steve nods, expressions crumbling a bit as he does so. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

“I think that’s pretty understandable.”

“How’s your face?” Bucky asks, thumb tracing the edge of the cut on Steve’s bottom lip.

“Little tender,” Steve answers. “Should be all healed up by tomorrow.”

Bucky nods, and then slowly leans in to press a light kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth, away from the cut. “Thank you for coming to me, even though… well.”

“I just wanted to see you,” Steve says, shoulders hunched up and lips pressed in a thin line.

Bucky feels a stab of guilt. Steve came to him because he needed comfort, and there Bucky was, getting all upset at him. “Hard mission?”

Steve nods. “They’re never easy, but…” he tries to smile, but fails at looking genuine. “And I’m sorry that the first time you see me in the navy suit is when I’m hurt.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Bucky tells him. “I don’t care about how good you look in your suit. I care about you being healthy and safe.”

“Okay,” Steve says, obviously too tired to argue.

“How about this,” Bucky starts, “I’ll help you get out of this uniform and into some comfy clothes. Then you’re going to help _me_ finish my cookies, I’m going to restart _Bok Joo_ , and we’ll cuddle until I’m all sweaty.”

Steve snorts, but some of the lingering hurt fades from his face. “What’s _Bok Joo_?”

“Oh, man,” Bucky grins, excited. “You’re going to love her.”

Steve does end up loving her and they do cuddle until Bucky’s all sweaty and gross. Not that Steve seems to mind, considering the way he clings to Bucky when Bucky tells him he has to shower.

“You’re invited, but we’ll need to keep your bandage dry,” Bucky says, already halfway out of his clothes.

“Where are your plastic bags?” Steve asks, lagging a little but already kicking off his pants.

There’s nothing romantic about their shower, just the easy intimacy they’ve built between them these past few months. Bucky insists on washing Steve, taking this time to catalog every little bruise and scrape he has on his body while gently rubbing his hands over Steve’s skin. Steve loses more and more of the tension he’s been holding with each swipe of Bucky’s hands. By the time they’re done and trying themselves off, Steve is swaying in place, eyes dropping with sleep.

“Let's get you to bed,” Bucky says softly, making sure Steve at least has some sweats on before crawling under the blankets.

“Bucky?” Steve asks as he turns on his side and watches Bucky climb into bed next to him, his hands folded under his pillow.

“Yeah, doll?” Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, careful not to brush against Steve’s injured side.

“You take care of me,” Steve whispers as he tangles their feet together.

“What?”

“You asked,” Steve snuffles against his pillow, “when you got hurt. Who takes care of me?”

Bucky swallows past a lump in his throat. “And I do?”

Steve hums and nods, rubbing his cheek on the pillow in the process. “You do.”

Bucky plays with Steve’s hair, heart hurting in his chest. “I do,” he agrees, with a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead and crossing an X over his heart. “And I will, for as long as I’m around.”

 

**

 

Bucky sniffles and clings tighter to the wall of muscle beside him, pressing his nose to a warm and soft stretch of fabric. He briefly feels a hand run through his hair before it is gone again, the touch followed by the sound of something scratching against paper.

“Watcha doin’?” Bucky mumbles against Steve’s thigh.

“Drawing,” Steve says, voice soft and gentle in the morning.

Bucky blinks his eyes open and yawns, letting go of Steve’s leg and turning on his back on the bed. It’s still early, if going by the way the morning sun licks at the end of his bed and warms up their feet. His nightstand clock flashes the time, the numbers 7:11 blinking back at him, reminding him that today is his last day off before going back on shift.

“Can I see?” Bucky asks, glancing up at Steve.

Steve is sitting on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, wearing only one of his navy flannel pants and no shirt. There is no trace of the cut on his side from a week ago, all healed up and like it was never there. Steve’s knees are tucked up and serving to balance a sketchbook, and he loosely holds a pencil in his hand. There’s a bit of sleep lingering in his expression by the drowsy blinks he gives Bucky and the soft curve of his mouth, but what gives away he hasn’t been up long is the way his hair is mussed up and flat on one side.

He looks like a fuzzy duckling again and Bucky wants to kiss his dumb face.

“It’s not finished,” Steve tells him, but angles the sketchbook to the right.

Bucky props up on his elbow and rests his temple against Steve’s arm, breath hitching in his chest when his eyes fall on the paper. His own face stares back at him, drawn in soft lines and smiling. His hair is loose and falling past his shoulder in the drawing, with a few strands curling against his jaw. He looks… beautiful and delicate in a way he never thought himself to be, and it hurts his heart as much as it fills it with something Bucky doesn’t have a name for to know that this is how Steve sees him. Like he’s something utterly precious.

“That’s me,” is all he manages to say, voice surprisingly loud in the quietness of the bedroom.

“We never found a time for you to pose for me,” Steve says, reminding them both of a conversation they had long ago, “but I like this too.”

Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s bare arm, eyes still glued to Steve’s drawing. “I could pose for you now?”

Steve laughs a little, turning his head so he can bury his nose on Bucky’s hair. “I’d like that, but you don’t have to. I know we have places to be this morning.”

The only place they need to be at this morning is Bucky’s parents’s house for Sunday breakfast. It will be Steve’s first time having breakfast with the family, and everyone is really looking forward to it.

“We still have some time.” Bucky glances up at him. “And if it’s not enough for you to finish the drawing, we can always pick it up again later.”

Steve nuzzles their noses together and then drops a kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I’d like that.”

Bucky smiles at him. “How do you want me?”

Bucky ends up almost exactly like he woke up, but on his stomach instead of on his side, clutching at Steve’s leg with his arm folded under his head under the pillow. The blankets are pooled at his waist, but the space heater near his side of the bed and Steve’s warmth next to him make sure he doesn’t get cold.

Bucky watches Steve as he draws, eyes half-lidded and lips curled into a smile. Steve looks different like this, still focused but without the added weight and seriousness of his missions. He’s confident in every flick of his pencil and glance at Bucky, with his bangs falling over his forehead whenever he tilts his head to the side to get a better look.

This is a new experience for Bucky. He’s seen Steve doodle on napkins and coffee sleeves, but watching as he pores over a sketchbook is something entirely different. Bucky can see the passion Steve has for drawing bleeding into every movement he makes, and it draws something up inside of Bucky in response.

There is a new giddy warmth sparking inside of Bucky’s chest, filling up his heart and making his soul sing. He can guess what it is, what it means, and the thought of it makes it impossible for him to keep himself from grinning.

“What is it?” Steve asks, only half paying attention as he goes back to drawing.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Bucky answers. He wants to keep this to himself for a little while. He wants to hold it close inside his heart, nurture it, before he lets those three little words burst past his lips and change their lives.

 

**

 

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” Bucky says, biting back at smile. “You’re already my Ma’s favorite child.”

“Shuddup,” Steve grumbles, doing his best to balance a box of donuts and an extra order of bagels and muffins. “It’s polite.”

They’re leaving _Sword & Scone_ and are on their way to Bucky’s parents’s house. It’s a different atmosphere this time: excitement and contentment instead of the nerves and anxiety that plagued Bucky the first time he brought Steve home. It’s a really nice change, to know that his family has come to accept Steve so easily and that Steve feels comfortable with them in return.

“And you’re known for your impeccable manners,” Bucky says with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s right.” Steve gives him a sharp nod. “That’s how you win at life, Buck. With _thank yous_ and _pleases_ and by bringing food to breakfast with your boyfriend’s parents.”

Bucky laughs and bumps his elbow against Steve’s side. “I never would’ve guessed.”

Steve side-eyes him. “Becca did tell me you’re the rude sibling.”

Bucky gasps and clutches at his chest, expression twisted into shock. “Shot through the heart.”

“You’ll survive.”

Bucky straightens up and winds an arm around Steve’s waist. “Are you excited for your first ever Barnes Sunday Breakfast?”

“Yes,” Steve says with a sweet smile and pink on his cheeks. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s cheek. “Just wait until Ma asks you to be around for Beltane. Now _that’s_ an event.”

“That’d be nice.” Steve grins, although there’s a touch of sadness on his eyes. “I haven’t really celebrated it since my Ma passed. It’d be good to go back to it.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. “We’d love to have you.”

Steve turns his head and captures Bucky’s lips in a chaste kiss. “I’d love to be there.”

Bucky smiles into the kiss and presses in for another one, leaning into Steve’s taste and warmth. “We’re gonna be late.”

“Just one more,” Steve says, stealing another kiss before he pulls back. “Okay, I’m good.”

When they get to his parents’s house, Bucky barely has any time to fit his key into the lock before the door is bursting open.

“Thank god you’re here,” Becca groans, practically throwing herself on top of Steve.

“What is it?” Bucky asks.

“What’s wrong?” Steve adds, staring down at Becca in alarm.

“Nothing, I’m just hungry.” Becca plucks the muffins out of Steve’s hand and then bounces back to the house. “Thanks for this!” she yells over her shoulder.

Steve blinks at the open door. “Did I just get robbed?”

Bucky sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “She does that sometimes. That’s how I lost my _Harry Potter_ galleon.”

“Is that the wizard money?” Steve frowns s they step into the house.

Bucky grins. “Yes. And I love that you know that,” he says, heart tripping in his chest at this tiny admission.

“I am a man of knowledge,” Steve sniffs, chest puffed out in a preen.

“You’re a man of something, alright,” Bucky deadpans.

“Oh, there you are!” Winifred finds them in the foyer and promptly pulls Steve into a hug, boxes be damned.

Steve still gets that same startled look at this show of affection like the first time, but he quickly smiles and relaxes into Winifred’s hug. “Hi, Freddie.”

“It’s lovely to see you again, Steve.” Winifred pats his cheek. “And you brought us food! How nice of you!”

“I told you you were the favorite,” Bucky whispers to Steve.

Steve just smirks at him.

“James.” Winifred turns to him and cup his face in her hands. “I love all my children equally.”

“But you don’t really care for Becca, do you?” Bucky says loudly, his inside doing all kinds of somersaults at his Ma’s words.

Steve must be feeling exactly the same, if judging by the way he tries to hide his face behind the bagels.

“I will fight you, Buchanan!” Becca threatens him all the way from the kitchen.

“I’ll win, Rebecca!” Bucky yells back.

“I don’t know, son,” George says as he comes up behind Winifred, a small smile on his face. “Becca’s been getting really good at self-defense.”

“I took Colleen down yesterday!” Becca walks over, a huge smile on her face. “She told me I’ll be able to take down guys the size of Captain America in no time.” With a somber expression, Becca lays a hand on Steve’s arm and says, “But don’t worry, Steve. I’d never do that to you.”

“Thank you, Becca,” Steve answers, just as serious, “but it would be an honor to lose a fight to you.”

“No one will be fighting anyone,” Winifred warns them, and then blinks. “Aside from the paparazzi. You all have my permission to fight them.”

Steve’s contrite expression makes Bucky reach out and rest a hand on his arm, trying to tell him it’s okay.

“I’m so sorry about that, Freddie,” Steve says. “I can get someone to come down here and deal with it.”

Winifred waves a hand at him in dismissal. “We’ve been doing fine dealing with them on our own. The coven helps. After the first one tried to break past the wards and lost all of his hair, a lot of them haven’t come back.”

“It was really fun to watch.” Becca grins. “There was a lot of yelling.”

Steve looks torn between worry and amusement, so Bucky saves him from his feelings.

“I’m hungry,” Bucky states, tapping his stomach. “Can we go eat?”

“We wouldn’t want you to wither and die now, would we,” Winifred says flaty as she levels Bucky with an unimpressed look they head to the table and take their seats.

Bucky blows her a kiss.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Becca mumbles, and then yelps when Bucky flicks her in the ear.

“No fighting at the table,” George tells them before they can escalate. “Steve, could you please pass me the bacon?”

“Of course,” Steve says, already handing them to George.

Bucky watches as his family eats breakfast in a flurry of movement and conversation and laughter. Steve seamlessly fits right in with them, trading jokes with Becca and talking about TV shows with his dad and asking Winifred about her fluffy pancakes.

Here they are, the people who Bucky loves most in the entire world, together under the same roof.

Now Bucky only has to tell Steve that.

 

**

 

As it usually happens in life, happiness never lasts. Sadness always comes forth, stealing smiles and laughter, even if only for a few seconds.

Bucky should have known.

He is cursed, afterall.

 

**

 

Bucky has never been good at figuring out his visions. It’s embarrassing, when he thinks about it, so he tries not to for the sake of his own sanity.

Most of the Barneses don’t seem have Bucky’s problem. They can figure out what their visions mean and prepare accordingly, even at their most vague. George, more than anyone else in the family, even seems to know what is happening not only to himself but to _other people_ too, despite that not being the way their family curse works.

So maybe it makes sense. Bucky’s Dad, in all his wisdom, seems to have gotten all the vision interpreting abilities while Bucky is left to fumble around and make mistakes.

Sure, Bucky tried to learn divination when he was a teenager: interpreting dreams, working with tea leaves, learning how to read the stars. But after his teacher turned out to be a huge creep and way too into his younger students, Bucky let that fall to the sidelines. He had other priorities with school and then studying to be a nurse.

So, Bucky never learned.

And now he pays the price.

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of a dying flame encased within ice.

It flickers and burns low, losing its brightness and warmth, as it sinks deeper and deeper into the falling snow. It is a tiny spark of light in between the darkness, growing dimmer and dimmer as the minutes pass.

Bucky tries to reach it, but his own limbs are numb and frozen in place, the cold slithering up his spine and down his throat, filling him up and choking him with it.

Bucky dreams of a dying flame encased within ice and wakes up knowing something terrible is going to happen to Steve.

 

**

 

For the second time this January, Bucky finds himself freaking the fuck out.

He barely manages to change out of his sweat-soaked pajamas before he is out the door and calling an Uber, doing his best not to burst into tears and spiral into a pit of anxiety and fear while he drives over to the Tower.

He needs to get to Steve.

He needs to make sure Steve is okay.

“C’mon, pick up,” Bucky mutters, stomach churning with nerves when Steve’s phone goes to voicemail once again.

Each passing second is like a knife to Bucky’s heart, taking him back to that dying flicker of flame in between ice. It’s snowing again in New York. Not a good sign, if going by Bucky’s dream.

Steve is the one in danger, this time. Steve is the one who… who might _die_.

“Can you go faster?” Bucky asks the werewolf at the wheel, hating how weak and shaky his voice sounds.

“Not if I don’t want to get a ticket,” the wolf growls back.

Bucky closes his eyes and tries to count to ten. He can’t help Steve if he’s panicking. He can’t make sure Steve’s okay if he’s busy freaking out himself. He needs to be strong for Steve, just like Steve has been for him before.

Bucky’s a fucking ER nurse. He’s dealt with worse things than this. Maybe not as heartbreaking, considering the possibilities, but he knows he has the strength to do what’s needed.

With another deep breath, Bucky grounds himself and holds on to that determination. He can do this. He can save Steve.

Not if only his dumb boyfriend or his dumb superhero friends would _answer their fucking phones_.

Bucky is halfway out of the Uber already by the time it finally parks in front of the Tower, his heart in his throat and his hand clutching his phone so tightly his knuckles are white. Bucky doesn’t bother going through reception and security. He doesn’t have time to be a model citizen when his Steve is in danger.

“JARVIS,” Bucky says as soon as he steps inside the foyer, already making for the elevators. “Where’s Steve?”

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS answers. “Captain Rogers is in a meeting. Fifteenth floor.”

“Are the others with him?”

“All of the Avengers are present.”

“Can you take me to him? Right away?”

There are a few seconds of silence before JARVIS asks, “Is there something wrong, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Just… can you do it, please? As fast as possible? I had a vision and I think… Just, please.”

“Certainly.”

Bucky focuses on a few breathing exercises while taking the express to the fifteenth floor. He’s grateful when JARVIS seems to take him seriously and doesn’t stop the elevator to pick up any more people.

“What room are they in?” Bucky asks. He runs a hand through his wind-blown hair and tucks a few loose strands behind his ear.

“1502,” JARVIS replies. “Through the hallway, last door on the right.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

Bucky doesn’t bother with careful steps when gets to the floor. He runs through the hallway, eyes scanning the little plaques on each door, trying to find the correct number.

Bucky’s heart trips in his chest when his eyes finally catch on door 1502. He doesn’t knock. He has no time to be polite when Steve could be in serious life threatening danger. So he really shouldn’t be surprised that, as soon as he pushes the door open and runs into the room, everyone in there turns to him, guns drawn, ready to drop him.

Bucky blinks. “Uh.”

“Hands where I can see them!” the woman standing at the head of the table yells, gun aimed right at Bucky’s face.

“Everyone, stand down!”

Bucky’s heads snaps to the side at the sound of that beautiful voice, entire body shuddering in relief at the sight of Steve. “Steve, oh my god.”

“Captain,” the woman warns, never taking her eyes off of Bucky.

“Hill, I said _stand down_ ,” Steve repeats. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“Uh, hi?” Bucky gives a little wave.

Clint and Natasha wave back at him, both trying to fight back smiles. Sam just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, pocketing the huge knife he had in his hand. Tony, for his turn, flicks his fingers and dismantles the armor covering his hands, as if he’d been ready to blast Bucky the fuck away.

Okay, so maybe bursting into a room full of superheroes and trained agents hadn’t been the best idea.

Still.

He needs to make sure Steve is going to be okay.

“What are you doing here?” Steve cups his face, eyes searching Bucky’s.

Bucky sends a quick glance to Hill and the other agents in the room. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” Steve scowls at him, offended.

Bucky takes a deep breath, hands coming up to clutch at Steve’s biceps. “I dreamed of a dying flame,” he whispers, fingers digging into Steve’s skin. “Fire, surrounded by ice.”

Steve’s expression twists at that, brows furrowed and lips pressed thin in alarm. “Bucky.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know it’s you,” Bucky tells him. “I know it’s _you_.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve slides a hand from Bucky’s face to grip at his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You bet your cute ass it is,” Bucky snaps, puffing his chest out. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, tone soft and eyes liquid.

“So you go back to your… whatever,” Bucky says, gesturing at the agents around the room, “and I’ll stay here, guarding the door.”

“He protecc,” Natasha whispers, but still loud enough for Bucky to hear.

Bucky looks over at Steve’s shoulder and points a finger at her. “I will pee on everything you love.”

“I’m not into that,” Clint pipes up, and then tries to hide a smile when Natasha whips her head around and glares at him.

“This has been… enlightening,” Hill says, gun holstered. “But you’re not allowed to be here.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “No one stopped me.”

Just as Hill is about to open her mouth to maybe tell Bucky _she_ would stop him, an alarm rings through the building, shrill and loud and with bonus red lights to boot.

“Oh no,” Bucky whispers, stomach plummeting to the floor.

This is it.

This is how he loses Steve.

There’s a flurry of movement as everyone gets to their feet, with agents running through the door, Tony suiting up, and Hill barking on a phone.

“Situation?” Hill asks, gesturing for everyone to leave the room.

Bucky pointedly clutches at Steve’s arm and _refuses_ to let go as they make their way down to the emergency exits. Maybe if he clings to Steve like a limpet, Steve won’t be able to fight.

“I’m getting weird temperature signals from outside,” Tony says, face obscured by his Iron Man helmet. “Extreme cold. Some cars and… and people are freezing to death.”

“No,” Bucky breathes out, nails digging into Steve’s arm. He can feel Steve tense beside him, entire body locking tight at Tony’s words.

“Do we know what it is?”

“Some kind of… spirit?” Tony answers, unsure.

Hill clicks off her phone. “Woman-like creature, four blocks from here, seems to have some kind of elemental power.”

“Woman-like?” Sam asks. “Are you sure it’s not just _one_ of the elementals who live near here?”

Hill shakes her head. “This is something else. She looks…”

“Like a ghost,” Tony adds. He flicks his hand up and projects a screen through his palm, showing them the imagine of a woman with long dark hair floating through the streets of New York. Snow piles up where she passes, with ice forming and settling through whoever is in her path, trapping them inside the ice.

Dying flame.

Encased in ice.

“Steve,” is all Bucky says, turning wide eyes to his boyfriend. There’s fear clawing at him, urging him to beg Steve not to do this, not to go, not to walk into something that will definitely end badly for both of them.

But he knows he can’t.

He knows it’s not fair.

He can’t ask Steve to stay behind and not save people. That’s Steve’s job, who he is, and it wouldn’t be fair to Bucky to ever ask him to let that go. He can’t even ask him to stay behind and let the others take care of it. They’re down the Hulk, Thor, and Wanda, the three other people aside from Steve who might have a chance against something that can control the cold.

Steve is their firestarter. He is the one who can beat this.

And he’s the one who might lose his life in the process.

“I’m coming back to you, do you hear me?” Steve pulls Bucky to him as everyone rushes out of the elevator and to suit up, his hands tight and sure around Bucky’s hips. His jaw is clenched in that stubborn way, and there’s a glint in his eyes that defies Fate. “I need you to stay here, safe, but I’m coming back to you.”

Bucky blinks back tears and grits his teeth together. He feels like he’s falling apart, shattered pieces of him and his heart about to sink into the snow. “Something’s going to happen,” Bucky says, because he knows it in his soul to be true.

“You’re right,” Steve tells him. “We’re going out there to fight and we’re going to win. That’s what’s going to happen.”

“My vision—”

“I’m not leaving you,” Steve interrupts him with such fierceness that leaves Bucky’s knees weak. “I’ll come back, okay? That’s a promise.”

Bucky takes in a shaky breath and rests their foreheads together. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a step that will either kill him or send him floating through the clouds.

“Okay,” Bucky says, heart in his throat, “but here’s an incentive anyway: I love you. I’m in love with you. So you go out there, kick some ass, and then you come back here so I can tell you this all over again.”

Steve’s face transforms with each word that comes out of Bucky’s mouth, flashing from determination to surprise to awe and then settling into something that makes Bucky’s heart sing inside his chest.

“Bucky,” Steve whispers, his own eyes shimmering.

Bucky doesn’t let him speak. He pulls Steve in for a harsh kiss, all teeth and tongue and fear and love. “Go. Do what you need to do. I’ll be waiting.”

Steve stares at him for a beat and then kisses him again, soft and sweet and chaste. “Just so you know, I love you too,” he says, and then he’s off, taking half of Bucky’s soul with him.

 

**

 

Bucky does wait, but he also does something useful. He asks JARVIS to direct him to their emergency supplies and first aid kits, busying himself with patching up whoever stumbles into the Tower after trying to run from the mess outside.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky looks up from the young man he’s treating for a deep cut on his forehead to find none other than Pepper Potts staring down at him.

“Ms. Potts,” Bucky nods at her, and then goes back to work. “Sorry I raided your Tower.”

“There’s no need for apologies in times like these,” Pepper says, kneeling next to him. “I have something for you,” she presses a small device into Bucky’s hand. “Comms. This way, JARVIS can keep us updated.”

Bucky exhales and nods at her, turning on the comm and putting it in his ear. “JARVIS?”

“Mr. Barnes, Captain Rogers and the others have cornered the Yuki-onna two blocks from here. They are now trying to neutralize her.”

“Yuki-onna? Really? I thought they were chill,” Bucky says, and then lets out a laugh that hinges on hysterical. “No pun intended.”

JARVIS doesn’t seem to have an answer for that, so Bucky spends the next ten minutes assessing injuries and trying to treat people as best as he can. It helps to have Pepper join him and the Tower medical team at people’s disposal. Anyone with major injuries is being treated at their own facilities, while Bucky and a few other nurses and first responders tackle scrapes and cuts and try to bundle everyone up in shock blankets.

But then Bucky hears it. JARVIS’s voice in his ear. There is no change of tone, just a simple, “Agents Romanoff and Barton are down.”

Bucky sucks in a breath as his world starts to crumble.

A second after, “Staff Sergeant Wilson is down.”

Later, if someone were to ask Bucky, he wouldn’t know how to explain the kind of resolve that washes over him. A mixture of panic and fear and utter defiance floods his blood, all threaded together with his love for Steve and his utter unwillingness to let something happen to the man he loves.

Bucky doesn’t remember picking up the hydrogen peroxide spray bottle from one of the first aid kits. He doesn’t remember closing his hand around the lighter he keeps in his pocket, only for emergencies. He doesn’t remember Pepper yelling after him, nor does he remember leaving the tower.

Bucky remembers snow.

Bucky remembers his dreams.

And all that Bucky feels is the memory of Steve’s heart beating right next to his.

So Bucky runs, with JARVIS’s voice in his ear, fighting off the snapping cold and snow in the air and the numbness that starts spreading over his fingers.

Steve will not die today.

Not if Bucky has anything to say about it.

And right as Bucky is about to turn the corner into the street where his love fights for his life, JARVIS strikes another blow.

“Sir is down.”

Bucky’s heart all but stops in his chest at the sight his eyes catch on when he reaches Steve. Natasha and Clint are crumpled on top of a dumpster, skin with an unhealthy blue tinge to it. Sam is on the ground by one of the frozen cars, wings around him with little flecks of ice stuck to them, while Tony is a few feet behind Steve with suit covered with a thin sheet of ice.

And Steve.

Oh, Steve.

The Yuki-onna hovers in front of him, long dark hair floating through the wind. She looks almost peaceful as she makes ice rise up from the ground and curl itself around Steve’s legs, trapping him in place, making it impossible for him to run. Steve tries to fight it, but not even his vibranium shield can hit ghosts.

The ice rises higher and higher and higher, up to Steve’s waist and past his chest.

Bucky can see it, even from where he’s standing, shocked into stillness: the panic in Steve’s eyes, rising as strong and as wild as the ice.

Because this is their worst nightmare come to life again, isn’t it?

Steve, freezing to death in the Valkyrie.

A dying flame encased in ice.

_Aha!_

“Well, fuck that,” Bucky snaps at the tingling rush of his vision coming true, fear and a bright hot flash of anger propelling himself forward. “Steve!”

Steve whips his head in Bucky’s direction, panic turning into a deep kind of fear that stabs through Bucky’s heart. The Yuki-onna also turns her attention to Bucky, and he can feel the cold wind stab at his cheeks and the snow stick to his hair. But he is not about to let this be the end.

“Get your cold dead hands off my boyfriend!” Bucky yells as he lifts up his lighter and sprays the peroxide bottle. The burst of flames from Bucky’s weapon isn’t as… impressive as he wishes it would be, but it does serve to make the Yuki-onna move a few inches back and away from Steve. But then she moves in _Bucky’s_ direction. “Oh no.”

“ _Bucky_!” Steve yells, muscles straining as he tries to break off the ice surrounding him, but with no success.

Bucky watches with wide eyes as the Yuki-onna approaches, the cold making his teeth chatter and his entire body shiver.

And then… Bucky feels it: that familiar heat that keeps him company during cold nights, that wraps itself around him when he’s trying to bake cookies, that kisses him hello and goodbye and all the times in between.

Steve is a slow burning fire, a spark of light that builds up strong and hot, and then bursts into a shining star.

The Yuki-onna screams when Steve melts the ice around him, flames covering his hands and arms and flickering around his entire body. His eyes glint gold and red and orange, the fire and flame behind the man, the power that courses through his veins and makes a home inside his heart.

With a smile, he lets himself burn bright and wild.

There’s another scream from the Yuki-onna, this one full of pain and hurt. She tries to run, to shy away from Steve’s flames, but there is no where for her to go. When Steve takes a step closer to her, she curls into herself and, with a final ear-piercing scream, melts into the snow.

Bucky stares at the place she once was, jaw slack and body fighting between the cold and the heat. “Well, so that happened.”

“ _Hnng_ ,” Steve answers, and then falls to the floor, fire gone and chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Bucky rushes to him and falls to his knees in front of Steve, ignoring the way the melted snow soaks his pants. “Steve?”

Steve wheezes and shakes, body trembling while his hands curl into fists over his thighs. His eyes are closed shut, the lines of his shoulders rigid under Bucky’s hands, and his chest rises and falls in short sharp movements as he tries to suck in air.

Bucky positions himself by Steve’s side, as close as he can be while still making sure Steve can move and doesn’t feel trapped. He presses his chest to Steve’s arm while one hand rests in between his shoulder blades.

“We’re safe,” Bucky tells him, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, just as he slides his hand up and down Steve’s back in soothing motions. “We’re in New York. It’s the 21st century. I’m your strikingly beautiful boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, and we just said we loved each other for the first time a few minutes ago. I’m your soulmate. We’re both safe. Except for my pants. Those are ruined. We’re in New York. Your team is passed out all around us, so we should probably do something about that. JARVIS?”

“Ms. Potts has been warned, sir,” JARVIS answers. “She is sending help.”

“See? We’re all going to be fine,” Bucky tells Steve, pressing their temples together. Steve is still shaking a little, but his breathing is almost back to normal. “Just breathe with me. We’re safe. You just burst into flames to save me. I’m going to want to talk to you about that later. But first impression? You looked really cool. The fire matches your heart. But I do want to know why it didn’t burn all your clothes off, though. Especially since Bruce is always naked after he’s done being the Hulk. I remember seeing his butt on national television a few years ago. Would’ve rather not.”

Bucky stops when he feels a hot and wet burst of breath against his neck.

“Same here,” Steve says, voice a still shaky and rough.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky hugs him closer, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. “The only butt you should be seeing is mine. Are you okay?”

Steve moves his head in what could be either a shake or a nod, and his cheek rubs against Bucky’s cold nose for a second. “Not really.”

Bucky brush a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You will be. I’m right here with you.”

 

**

 

After being picked up by Pepper and a very angry James Rhodes, they all head back to the Tower. Hill and Rhodey insist everyone gets checked out at medical before being shuffled to their respective rooms, with the threat to be ready for debriefing in a couple of days. Nat and Clint drag each other to their floor, while Tony finds himself in the middle of Pepper and Rhodey as they escort him to their rooms. Sam talks to T’Challa through one of the bead bracelets he wears, trying to assure his boyfriend that he’s fine. The last Bucky hears before he leads Steve away is that T’Challa is about to get on a jet.

“Let your boyfriend take care of you, Wilson!” Bucky throws over his shoulder at Sam before they leave.

“Mind your own fucking business, Barnes!” Sam shouts back.

Steve moves with a sort of care and slowness that usually isn’t present when they get back to his apartment. It’s like exhaustion weighs on him, dragging him down by his slumped shoulders and ducked head. It hurts Bucky’s heart to see him like this, and he hopes he can at least bring a little comfort to Steve tonight.

“C’mon,” Bucky winds an arm around Steve’s waist, trying to lighten his burdens a little, “time for a hot shower.”

Steve is pliant under Bucky’s hands while Bucky gets them both undressed, eyes a little unfocused and far away. Bucky doesn’t ask him all the questions that are running through his mind. Instead, he kisses Steve when he can, soft brushes of lips to his cheek and shoulders and back and chest, letting Steve know he’s not alone.

Steve shakes a little under Bucky’s hands while Bucky washes them both, leaning into Bucky’s touches like he’s starved for it. Bucky presses himself as close as possible to Steve, letting Steve cling to him like he needs to, while offering some comfort in return.

“We’re safe, love, we’re both alright,” Bucky murmurs to him, voice muffled by the sound of the water hitting the tiles.

Steve just presses his face against Bucky’s wet hair and breathes.

Bucky makes sure they both have soft and warm clothes to put on after the shower, and then a hot drink to sip when they lay down in bed together under Steve’s new gravity blanket. Bucky pulls Steve close to him in bed, letting Steve rest his head on his chest while he leans back against the headboard.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, lightly scratching at the back of Steve’s neck.

“Tired,” Steve mumbles, pressing a little firmer against Bucky’s chest.

“Then go to sleep,” Bucky tells him with a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t know if I can,” Steve admits with some reluctance.

Bucky can imagine why. Today has been way too familiar for Steve, and definitely not in a good way.

“Want to talk about it?” Bucky gently offers, hating a little bit the way his hearts speeds up in his chest. He knows Steve can tell by the way his shoulders tense a little before relaxing again.

“Not really,” Steve answers. “But maybe I should.”

“Doesn’t have to be today, though.”

Steve snorts out a humorless laugh and glances up at Bucky. “If we start running from our problems, we’ll never stop. I know from experience.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says with a brittle smile. “There might be something to it.”

Steve lets out a sigh and sits up, dislodging Bucky’s arm from his shoulder. Bucky tries not to feel too hurt about it, emotions churning in his chest and making it difficult for him to breathe.

“You want to know why I didn’t do it,” Steve says, straight to the point.

Bucky kind of wants to laugh, because that’s so Steve: brave and reckless and jumping on a live grenade without knowing if it’ll explode and hurt the both of them.

“Yes,” Bucky admits, because there is no running from this anymore. Not that he thinks they should avoid the elephant in the room. Bucky loves Steve, and he wants to keep loving Steve for the rest of his life. For this, he needs to know. “I want to know why you didn’t use your powers to get out of the Valkyrie when you crashed into the ocean.”

There has always been a lot of speculation surrounding Steve’s… death. Why he didn’t tell anyone his coordinates, why he didn’t use his powers, why he sacrificed himself. Some people say it might have been the result of technical issues, others believe Steve had no way out. Maybe he was unconscious. Maybe there _was_ no way out.

But now, having seen what Steve can do, Bucky knows all of that is wrong.

There was only ever one answer. And Steve gives that to him right now.

“I didn’t think I had anything worth living for,” Steve says, eyes haunted and sad and carrying the weight of decades locked under ice. “I thought… I thought that was a fitting end for me. I did what I set out to do. I helped people. I fought alongside heroes. I knew that if I crashed the plane, there was a pretty good chance that that was it—the war would be over. It’d all be done.”

“And you’d be dead,” Bucky whispers, sadness rising up inside of him and spilling over as tears fall down his cheeks. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his borrowed hoodie.

Steve shakes his head. “It seemed like a fair trade. If I crashed the plane, everything would be over. I would’ve completed my mission.”

“You’re more than your missions,” Bucky spits out in anger as he kneels on the bed and grabs at Steve’s shirt.

Steve rests his hand over Bucky’s. “I know that now. It… it took me a really long time and a lot of help, after I got out of the ice, for me to realize that. And I still need a reminder, sometimes.” Steve pulls him closer so Bucky has to swing a leg and straddle his lap, Steve’s hands now firm on his hips. “I worked really hard these past few years to get to a place where I know that life, _my life_ , has value outside of what the serum can do for people. Sam and Nat helped a lot. So did the rest of the team. I know I’m more than the shield, more than Captain America.”

“You’re Steve,” Bucky whispers, cupping Steve’s face in his hands.

Steve smiles a little. “I’m Steve. And Steve has made a pretty good life for himself. And I want to keep living it. I still have bad days sometimes, and I still find it hard to ask for help or let people take care of me—”

“You don’t say,” Bucky deadpans, and then yelps when Steve pokes him in the ribs.

“But I’m doing a lot better,” Steve says, sliding his hands under Bucky’s hoodie. “I promise. And I’m still working on the points where I’m not. I want… I want to live a full life. I know there’s not a magical cure for mental illness, but I have worked and I’m still working on learning how to deal with it. For myself.”

“I know I don’t need to say it, but I’m really proud of you,” Bucky sniffs, hugging Steve to him.

Steve laughs a little and hugs him back. “I’m really proud of myself too.”

“I love you,” Bucky says, the words falling like a vow between them.

Steve turns his head so he can press his mouth to Bucky’s pulse point. “I love _you_. My soulmate.”

When Bucky turns his head to meet Steve into a kiss, he knows, deep in his soul, that they’re going to be okay.

 

**

 

“I can’t keep doing this.” Bucky glares at the ceiling, his voice muffled by the blanket he has pulled up to his chin. Only his nose, eyes, and luscious hair peek out from underneath his cocoon.

“Doing what?” Steve murmurs from right next to him on the couch. “Watching _Jane, the Virgin_ with me?”

Bucky pulls his blanket down so he can scowl at Steve. “No. I’m very invested in Petra’s redemption arc. I mean I can’t keep being a shitty psychic.”

Steve hits pause on Netflix and then slowly turns his head to Bucky. “What.”

“I can’t keep being a shitty psychic,” Bucky repeats, blowing a sigh of frustration. “I’ve lived with this curse for over thirty years, but I keep fucking up. I never get what my visions _mean_ , and I can’t—” Bucky chokes on a breath, the panic of his last vision still lingering in his mind. “I can’t do that again. Thinking you were… I can’t do it. I need to learn how to get my shit together.”

It’s been two weeks since the Yuki-onna, but the terror and fear and worry he felt at the thought of losing Steve still keep Bucky up at night. He can handle it during the times Steve is right next to him in bed — all he has to do is lay a hand over Steve’s chest and feel his beating heart. Their conversation did dampen Bucky’s fear and concern for Steve, but he knows that, while Steve will always fight to stay alive, it doesn’t mean he’ll always succeed. It’s the reality of someone who puts their lives on the line to help protect other people.

“Sweetheart.” Steve leans all of his weight against Bucky’s side, slowly making him slide sideways on the couch. “We’re okay.”

Bucky squirms until he’s lying down and can pull Steve on top of him, tugging at the blanket until he can drape it over them both.

“I know we’re okay _now_ ,” Bucky huffs. “But I need to be ready in case Fate decides that one day we _won’t_ be okay.”

“Alright.” Steve kisses the dimple on Bucky’s chin. “What do you need?”

Bucky knows exactly what he needs. He texts his dad for instructions, and twenty minutes later he and Steve are braving the cold streets of New York in search of a red door that is bound to answer all of Bucky’s questions. Or at least about to give him the means to do that for himself.

 _Mediumocre_ is a tiny divination store almost hidden from view, its shiny red door practically oozing magic and daring anyone to come inside. Bucky and Steve trade a glance before Bucky pushes the door open, trying to ignore the way the magic wraps itself around his arm and makes his skin tingle.

A horn rings from above the door.

“Fuck, customers,” comes a muffled voice from the back, followed by the loud thump of what seems like several books hitting the floor. “I’ll be down in a minute!”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Steve asks Bucky, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“That’s what my Dad said,” Bucky answers. “And he’d never lie to me.”

“Hello there!” a man pops from behind the counter, toothy smile framed by scarred lips. “I’m Wade. I’ll have your books ready for you in a hot flash.”

Bucky blinks owlishly at him. “Uh… I didn’t… request anything?”

“But you want something,” Wade points a finger at him, “and I’ve got just what you need.” Bucky watches in fascination as Wade brings out a pile of books from somewhere behind him and dumps them over the hard wooden surface of the counter, going over the titles aloud, “Alright, here we go: _Divination for Dummies, The Confused and the Divine, Fogged Magic, It Happened To Me in a Dream,_ and _Owning the Oracle._ And we can’t forget the most important one: _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_.”

Bucky stands there, shocked still and gaping. “Harry Potter?”

“It’s a classic.” Wade grins at him. “That’ll be 69 dollars. Or you can ask your boyfriend to introduce me to Thor.” Wade leans in and whispers. “He makes me feel all tingly.”

“We’ll just pay, thank you,” Steve says, the picture of politeness.

Wade shrugs. “That’s fine. I’ll just ask Clint to do it.”

“You know Clint?” Steve tilts his head at Wade.

Wade waggles his eyebrows at Steve. “Intimally.”

Steve makes a face at that, and Bucky has to try not to laugh. They pay what they owe Wade while he bags Bucky’s books, keeping up an undecipherable string of chatter along the way.

“Thank you for your business and good luck on your quest to stop being a shitty psychic,” Wade tells Bucky with a smile while he hands Bucky his books. “I know you can do it.”

“How do you—” Bucky starts to ask, but them Wade is pushing him and Steve towards the door and past the magic that surrounds it. When Bucky looks back again, the red door is gone. “That wasn’t weird at all.”

“I can’t believe Clint knows him,” Steve muses. “It makes some weird kind of sense, though.”

“C’mon.” Bucky takes Steve’s hand in his. “We need to find me some cute stationary. I can’t study without pastel highlighters.”

Steve laughs, but lets himself be lead away.

 

**

 

Studying is hard, but some masochistic part of Bucky’s brain _loves_ learning and delights in overcoming obstacles. That’s what makes him a great nurse, and that’s what he taps into when he starts reading through the books Wade sold to him.

Bucky needs to learn how to interpret his visions.

No more adventures in being a shitty psychic.

This does mean that his days off are now filled with books and tabs and highlighters and jotting down notes with his sparkly fluffy green pen. He still goes to visit his parents and he still drags Steve to bed to have sex or to the couch to eat dinner and watch some TV, but his attention is turned to the meaning of dreams and unraveling visions.

Bucky is going to learn things so hard he’ll never be caught by surprise again.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Bucky smiles at the sounds of Steve taking off his shoes and dropping off his shiny new key to Bucky’s place on the cute fish-shaped bowl Bucky keeps on a table by the door. Bucky gave him a copy three days ago after a fantastic round of sex, telling Steve to let himself in whenever wanted to be around Bucky.

Turns out Steve’s shown up every single day since, always giving Bucky the same greeting when he arrives at the apartment.

“Living room!” Bucky yells back. That’s where he’s made his new study-station. He can leave his books and notes on the coffee table and sit down on the floor with his back to the couch. He has space for snacks and drinks, something he can rest his back against when he gets tired, and a place for Steve to sit close to him.

“I brought you something,” Steve grins when he sees Bucky, setting a bag right on top of Bucky’s copy of _It Happened to Me in a Dream_.

“Oooohh, gifts.” Bucky bounces a little in place, peering into the bag. He gasps, lips curling into a huge smile. ”You got me new tabs!”

Steve grins back. “They’re space themed.”

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky tugs at the bottom of Steves sweater until Steve bends down to kiss him. “I love them.”

“Gotta support my guy,” Steve says, leaning in for another kiss. He curls his hand through Bucky’s hair, careful of the pencil stuck through the strands to keep Bucky’s top bun in place. “Dinner break in an hour?”

“Yes, please. You got your stuff?”

“Have some reports I still need to read through.” Steve sits down on the couch and fishes a Stark tablet from his bag. His left leg is pressed to Bucky’s side, filling him with warmth. “I should be done with them by tonight.”

Bucky rests his chin on top of Steve’s knee and sighs. “When did we become so boring?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “I distinctly remember a spiked cockring from a few nights ago.”

Bucky hides a smile against the fabric of Steve’s sweats. “Okay, maybe not boring.”

Steve bends down again and brushes a soft kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Go study. I’ll bug you about dinner in a bit.”

Bucky tilts his head up, pecks Steve on the lips, and does as he’s told.

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of a bouncy cheese slice.

It rolls around on the grass and runs after chicken wings, pausing at a lettuce leaf and then flattening itself over some spinach before continuing on with the fun. It goes on and on, from one spot to the next, until a bright rainbow star picks it up and gives it a kiss.

Bucky dreams of a bouncy cheese slice and wakes up knowing exactly what is going to happen.

 

**

 

**Bucky [3:19PM]:**

_Meet me at the shelter tomorrow??? It’s important_

 

 **Steve** **< 3 [4:13PM]:**

_Y E S I LOVE DOGS THANK YOU_

 

**

 

“This is my favorite place in the entire world,” Steve says, totally blissed out as he lies on the floor and lets puppies crawl all over him. He’s glowing again, a soft bright light that emanates warmth and happiness.

“I can tell,” Bucky says dryly, yet he can’t help but smile at the sight and snaps dozens of pictures with his phone. ”We’ll have to go soon though.”

“But we’ll be back,” Steve promises the puppies, gentle hands petting as many puppy heads as he can.

“That’s embarrassing,” Kate says when she walks in with Cheddar on a leash, shooting Steve a judgemental look. “Your boyfriend is embarrassing, Barnes.”

“I know,” Bucky sighs, and then bends down so he can kiss Steve on the nose. “Still love him.”

Steve grins up at him, glowing a little brighter at Bucky’s words.

“Here,” Kata says, pushing Cheddar’s leash into Bucky’s hand. “Go take care of this one. He hasn’t had any exercise yet today.”

“Hey, buddy.” Bucky pets Cheddar and gives him a cuddle, smiling softly at the way Cheddar’s fluffy butt waggles when Bucky gives him a good scratch behind his ear. “You ready to go on an adventure?”

Cheddar barks and licks Bucky’s cheek, and then trots up to Steve and nudges the side of his head with his cold nose.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Steve laughs. He kisses each of the puppies as he picks them up from on top of himself and sets them on the floor again, promising to be back some other day. “I’ll see you all later, dogs.”

Bucky bites down on the inside of his cheek not to laugh. He promptly gives Steve Cheddar’s leash as they leave the shelter, knowing how much Steve just _loves_ walking him around. It’s too bad their schedules are too unpredictable, otherwise Bucky is sure Steve would’ve become a dog parent already.

“That’s my goal, one day,” Steve admits as they walk, stopping to let Cheddar sniff at a pole.

“To adopt a dog?”

Steve nods. “And have a house with a big yard they can run in.”

Bucky’s stomach flips at Steve’s thought of the future. “Yeah?”

Steve shrugs. “Can’t be Captain America forever,” he says quietly. “Don’t really want to. I never imagined myself getting married or having kids, but having a house and a dog feels right.”

There are too many things Bucky wants to address there, so he goes by parts. “You don’t want to carry on the shield?”

Steve glances at him, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “I’ll always help if the world needs me, but I know there’s more to my life than that. Plus, I lost the shield to Sam during our last poker game a few months ago. He might as well keep the uniform too.”

Bucky is shocked silent for precisely one second before he starts laughing, earning a few enthusiastic barks from Cheddar in the process. “Of course you bet the shield on a fucking poker game. Jesus fuck, Steve.”

Steve grins at him, eyes crinkled at the corners. “It was either that or my bike.”

“Dumbass,” Bucky says fondly, leaning in so he can kiss Steve’s smile off his face. “You don’t want to get married then?” he asks, and then rushes to add, “In general. Not to me, specifically.”

“In general,” Steve says with a twitch of lips, “I don’t know. It was never a priority. What about you?”

Bucky shrugs. “Eh.”

Steve snorts. “Such enthusiasm.”

“I mean, my parents are married,” Bucky muses, brows furrowed a little. “And they’re as happy as two people can be, but I never really thought of that for myself, you know? I love that it isn’t illegal to get hitched to a dude anymore, but… I don’t know. It’s not really a dream of mine. Same with kids,” he continues, since they’re already on their way to the topic. “I love my little cousins, but I don’t think I want babies to raise.”

“I get that,” Steve murmurs, moving the leash from one hand to the other so he can throw an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “We have time to think it over.”

“Dogs, though,” Bucky adds, and his heart trips in his chest when he sees the beaming smile on Steve’s face. “Dogs are a must.”

Steve brushes a kiss on Bucky’s mouth, still smiling. “That we can agree on.”

“And speaking of dogs,” Bucky bends down to give Cheddar a pet, “how about we take this one to the park?”

Cheddar barks and then starts to pant in excitement, pink tongue lolling out. They let him roam free and roll around the grass, running from point to point, sniffing trees and trying to lick a few pigeons, before he sploots in front of Steve so he can drink some water.

“You’re a good boy,” Steve tells him as he laps at the water offered to him, before he’s running off again.

Bucky watches him with a small smile on his face while he and Steve sit down under the shade of a tree with their sides pressed together. It takes a few minutes, but then it all starts — the reason why Bucky asked Steve to do this today. A couple walking through the park stops when they catch sight of Cheddar, their eyes lighting up.

Bucky’s heart clenches in his chest when one of the men scans his gaze through the park, as if looking for Cheddar’s owners, and then stops when he makes eye contact with Bucky. Bucky gives him a nod and a smile, and then pats Steve lightly on the shoulder.

“C’mon,” Bucky says and, with a sigh, “We’re about to meet Cheddar’s future owners.”

Steve’s head snaps back to him, mouth gaping in surprise. “ _Really_?” he whispers, helping Bucky up while he sizes up the two men standing close to Cheddar.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers. “They’re good people. Cheddar will have a happy home.”

“He better,” Steve mutters under his breath.

“Hi,” Bucky says when they approach the men, already extending a hand to them. “I’m Bucky Barnes. This is my boyfriend Steve, and this is Cheddar.”

“Captain Raymod Holt of the 99th Precinct,” the black man right across from Bucky says, shaking his head. “This is my husband, Kevin Cozner.”

“Head of the Classics Department at Columbia,” Kevin says. “You have a beautiful dog.”

“He’s not ours,” Bucky tells him, and has to smile when Captain Holt and Kevin exchange a glance at that. “But he is up for adoption, if you’re interested.”

“We are interested,” Captain Holt and Kevin say at the same time.

Bucky tells Kevin about the shelter while Steve and Captain Holt enter a calm but very stern discussion about the caring of dogs. It kind of sounds like they’re interrogating each other, but when the conversation ends with both of them shaking hands and nodding sharply, Bucky figures everything is fine. Even more so when Cheddar trots up to them and sits at Captain Holt’s feet, head tilted up so he can pant at him.

And that’s when it happens.

“Hello,” Captain Holt says, right as he bends down and picks Cheddar up. He tries to be sneaky, but Bucky catches the way he presses a kiss to the top of Cheddar’s head.

Right then and there: _aha_!

Bucky grins, feeling proud at himself happy for Cheddar for being close to finding his forever home.

“Would you like to walk back with us?” Bucky asks. “I’m sure Frank can tell you more about the adoption process than I can.”

“We’d love to,” Kevin rushes to add, hooking his arm around Captain Holt’s and falling into step with Steve and Bucky.

Cheddar walks in front of them, little butt wiggling, as happy as can be.

 

**

 

“How did you know?” Steve asks when they get home from the shelter, having left Captain Holt and Kevin to fill in all the appropriate paperwork. “How did you know Cheddar was going to be adopted?”

Bucky rubs a hand over his chest and crowds into Steve, winding his arms around Steve’s shoulders and pressing his face against the side of Steve’s neck. “How do you think?”

“Buck,” Steve breathes out, curling a hand through Bucky’s hair and tugging at it until Bucky lifts his face up to stare at him. “You had a vision?” he asks.

Bucky laughs a little, incredulous and giddy. He nods and squeezes his arms tighter around Steve. “I did it. I had a vision. And I figured it out all on my own before it happen.”

“Bucky, that’s amazing!” Steve laughs, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s waist and picking him up. Bucky laughs even louder when Steve starts spinning them around in his living room, heart so filled with happiness and love he could burst. “I’m so proud of you,” Steve says with a deep kiss. “So so proud. I knew you could do it.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just leans in to kiss Steve again, deeper and hotter this time around. Steve moans softly against his mouth at the first brush of Bucky’s tongue against his lips, grip tightening on Bucky’s hair. It’s sloppy and messy and a little uncoordinated, both of them still smiling a little as they kiss, but it’s still enough to make Bucky’s breath hitch and heat pool in his gut.

“C’mon,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s lips, and then jumps up and wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. “Bed. We gotta celebrate.”

Steve huffs and balances Bucky with hands on Bucky’s butt, fingers digging into the meat of Bucky’s cheek. “Could’ve warned me.”

Bucky kisses the tip of Steve’s nose and grins. “Like you don’t love a chance to pick me up and drag me around.”

Steve’s face goes a little pink at that, because Bucky is definitely not the only one who loves the casual manhandling. Bucky laughs again and palms Steve’s neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

Steve is sure in his steps when he walks them to Bucky’s bedroom, careful not to bump them against anything on the way. He carefully lays Bucky down on the bed, the same way he usually does, like Bucky’s something precious to be treasured.

“How do you want to celebrate?” Steve asks once they’re both naked and tangled together, his mouth quick and wicked on Bucky’s neck.

Bucky laughs and lets Steve have his fun with his neck for a few seconds, before he’s pulling back and pushing Steve down on the mattress. “Like this,” Bucky says, hands cupping Steve’s pecs while he gently pinches Steve’s nipples.

Steve’s breath hitches and then he lets out a low moan, his pecs tightening and back arching up. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that.”

Bucky grins and kisses Steve’s sweet mouth, fingers still pulling and tugging and playing with his nipples. Steve is sensitive there, more so than he ever was before the serum — or so Steve tells him. It’s something Bucky delights in, this power to turn Steve into a writhing mess, all by playing with his nipples.

It’s easy for Bucky to kiss his way down Steve’s neck and to his chest, sucking marks along the way that will disappear in a matter of seconds. It saddens Bucky, sometimes, how his marks don’t last on Steve, but then he remembers this means he gets to make new ones whenever he wants.

Steve’s nipples are pink and hard by the time Bucky closes his mouth around one of them, teeth lightly scraping the flesh. Steve gasps and brings his hands up to grip at Bucky’s hair, pushing more of his chest into Bucky’s mouth, eager for more. Bucky sucks and bites and plays as much as he wants, delighting in each and every sound of pleasure that bursts from Steve’s lips.

“Wanna try something new?” Bucky asks as he lets go of one of Steve’s nipples, but not before pressing a kiss to it first. He feels Steve’s dick twitch against this stomach at that, hard and leaking.

Steve pants, his cheeks flushed pink and mouth bitten red. “What?”

Bucky kisses the middle of Steve’s chest, right over his heart, and uses his hands to push Steve’s pecs together, creating a little valley between them. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, tracing one finger right in between Steve’s tits. “Right here?”

Steve makes a sound like he’s dying, high-pitched and that goes straight to Bucky’s cock. “Yes, _yes_ , please.”

Bucky grins and pecks Steve on the lips, hands squeezing Steve’s tits once more. “I got you, doll.”

Steve shivers and watches with hungry eyes while Bucky straddles his chest, his hands coming to rest on top of Bucky’s thighs, holding on. His gaze never leaves Bucky, attention all focused on the way Bucky slicks himself up with lube, movements sure and a little teasing.

“Stop playing,” Steve complains, scratching at Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky hisses and holds himself at the base, and he can’t help but let out a dark chuckle. “Eager?”

Steve makes a sweet little frustrated sound in the back of his throat. He moves his grip to hold on to Bucky’s hips instead, trying to pull him up and closer. “I always want you, you know that.”

A part of Bucky melts at that, so he lets himself be moved. He gasps when his cockhead brushes the curve of Steve’s left pec, leaving a wet trail on Steve’s skin.

“Hold yourself for me,” Bucky murmurs, cock twitching in his hand when Steve lets go of his hips to push his pecs together instead. Bucky’s takes in a breath, tracing a thumb slightly over one of Steve’s nipples, still wet and bruised from his mouth. “Okay?”

“Please, Buck.” Steve nods, and then licks his lips. “Fuck me.”

Bucky is, as always, powerless to deny Steve’s request.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Bucky groans as the first slide of his cock in between Steve’s pecs, the sweet friction sending sparks down his spine.

Steve whines too, a small sound that hits Bucky straight in the gut. Bucky looks down at Steve, his flushed face and mussed up hair, his plush mouth and hard nipples, and falls in love with him all over again. Because this is his Steve, giving himself up to Bucky, letting go and letting himself feel good.

“Buck,” Steve gasps, pink lips parting around the word.

Bucky’s stomach flips with lust, hot and all-consuming. “Open your mouth for me?” he asks, thumb pressing at Steve’s bottom lip.

Steve gets a glint in his eyes then, like he knows exactly what Bucky wants. He smirks, and then slowly darts his tongue out to lick his lips, grazing Bucky’s thumb on the way.

Bucky laughs, but it quickly turns into a moan when, on his next thrust, Steve’s mouth is there to wrap itself around the head of his cock, hot and wet and perfect. When Bucky pulls back again, Steve’s lips are shiny and curled into a smile.

“Fuck, but I love you,” Bucky says with smile, heart melting at the sweetness that flashes in Steve’s eyes. “Play with yourself for me?”

Steve hums and does, eyes fluttering almost shut when his starts touching his own chest. “Gonna come on me?” he asks Bucky, right before his mouth closes around Bucky’s cock again.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes out, hands resting over Steve’s on his chest, and hips moving faster. “All over you.”

And Bucky does, a few seconds later, spilling all over Steve’s pretty tits. A drop catches on Steve’s lips, and he wastes no time in licking it clean, moaning at the taste of Bucky’s come like it’s the best thing he’s ever head.

Bucky gets off of him and bends down so he can catch Steve into a deep and filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of himself on Steve’s tongue. There’s come painting Steve’s chest, and Bucky has to fight the urge to rub it all into Steve’s soft skin. Instead, he grabs his discarded undershift and cleans Steve’s as best as he can, before pulling him into another kiss.

“Okay?” Bucky checks in when he pulls back, hand gentle on the side of Steve’s neck.

Steve nods, nose brushing against Bucky’s. “We’re gonna try that again some other day.”

Bucky grins and kisses Steve again, humming a little when he feels Steve shiver and moves closer to him. “Want me to take care of you?”

“Please.” Steve nods again, and then angles his hips so he can press his hard cock against Bucky’s thigh.

“Still got you,” Bucky promises with another kiss, and then slides down the bed. “Hold my hair?”

Steve chuckles and gathers Bucky’s hair between his hands like in a loose ponytail. “You’re good.”

“ _You_ are good,” Bucky throws back at him as he settles between Steve’s thighs. He wraps a hand around the base of Steve’s cock, giving him one long stroke. “And _you_ are the best,” he tells Steve’s dick, right before sucking it into his mouth.

Steve’s amused laughter gets transformed into a moan when Bucky’s sucks him down, while his thighs clamp around Bucky’s sides, keeping him in place. Bucky hums at the taste and weight of Steve on his tongue, reveling in how fucking _good_ it feels to have Steve in his mouth. Bucky can’t fit all of Steve — he’s too big, too _thick_ for Bucky to able to take it all in, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have fun. He uses his hand to work Steve over, using all the dirt tricks and flicks of wrist he’s learned since they started having sex.

“Close,” Steve warns him, lips caught between his teeth while he stares down at Bucky in between his legs.

Bucky hums again, because he knows. He can tell, with the way Steve’s thighs tremble and his breath gives a little hitch with every inhale, with how his back bows and his eyes glint with the fire that hides inside his heart.

It’s beautiful, to watch as Steve lets himself go, and Bucky loves every second of it.

When Steve comes, Bucky swallows it all down, cleaning Steve up until he’s oversensitive and tugging at Bucky’s hair. Bucky kisses his thigh and stomach and the curve of a pec before he finally gets to Steve’s mouth, pulling him into a long kiss.

“Hi.” Bucky smiles as he nuzzles Steve’s cheek.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, brushing a light kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “You did great today.”

“I do great everyday,” Bucky jokes, but then cuddles up to Steve with a soft and excited smile. Steve wraps an arm around his waist, holding him close. “I can really do this,” Bucky whispers, hand over Steve’s heart. “I can really understand what the visions mean.”

Steve smiles at him, eyes bright. “You can.”

“I got this,” Bucky says, a little disbelieving.

“You do.” Steve kisses him. “You can get everything you set your mind to, I think.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, cheeks heating up a little. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re amazing, Bucky,” Steve says, bumping their foreheads together.

“Steve—”

“You are.” Steve interrupts him with a sweet kiss. “My soulmate, my Bucky, my sweetheart.”

“Dummy,” Bucky says fondly, torn between happiness and embarrassment. “You know,” he starts, fingers tapping on Steve’s chest to the rhythm of his heart. “There was one vision I never had a hard time deciphering.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, lips curling into a smile like he already knows what Bucky means. “Which one?”

“The one I had of you,” Bucky answers, feeling a kind of love so strong and bright it fills up his whole soul.

“I love you,” Steve tells him, oblivious to the soft glow that now shines from his skin, warm and comforting and sincere.

“I love you too,” Bucky whispers and hugs him, both of them illuminated and surrounded by their own happiness. “Just don’t set fire to my bed.”

Steve laughs, loud and giddy and with his skin still glowing, and then pulls Bucky into another kiss.

 

**

 

Bucky dreams of laying bricks.

There’s sweat running down his temple and his hands are rough from work, but he does not stop to rest. The sunshine man by his side spurs him along with a hand on his back, brick after brick after brick, while a dancing rug wraps itself around their legs as they work.

Bucky dreams building a home and wakes up smiling, with the solid heat of Steve’s sunshine body wrapped around him, and can’t wait for what the future will bring.

 

**THE END**

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much for reading! 
> 
> if you enjoyed the story, please consider reblogging the [masterpost](http://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/post/178636743906/hearts-like-ours-author-wearingtearing-artist) and the [art post](https://beesandbroomsticks.tumblr.com/post/178636647528/im-so-excited-to-share-the-art-i-did-for-the) <3
> 
> we are also on tumblr:  
> \- [hawkguyz](https://hawkguyz.tumblr.com/) (wearing_tearing)  
> \- [BeesAndBroomsticks](https://beesandbroomsticks.tumblr.com/) (FindingFrancis)


End file.
